<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Selfless, Brave &amp; True by Murder_Kitten</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24424315">Selfless, Brave &amp; True</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murder_Kitten/pseuds/Murder_Kitten'>Murder_Kitten</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Death, Cheating, Dark Draco Malfoy, Drug Use, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, F/F, F/M, Feels, Flashbacks, Hospital, Hurt Hermione Granger, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Kissing, Nightmares, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Potion Overdose, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Substance Abuse, Violence, injuries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:08:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,249</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24424315</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murder_Kitten/pseuds/Murder_Kitten</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A few years after the fall of Voldemort, all is not well with Gryffindor’s golden girl, Hermione Granger. When the war ended, Hermione turned to her next mission, saving the former Slytherin and Death Eater, Draco Malfoy, from his own demons. But two tortured souls do not a paradise make, as Hermione learned the hard way, bearing the brunt of Draco’s alcoholism and abuse as he became his father in all but name. Six years after fleeing the toxic relationship and disappearing from the wizarding world, the return of Hermione’s old flame Viktor Krum threatens to tear down the walls she has so carefully constructed around her heart. Hermione will have to choose between her heart and her head if she is to have any future at all with Viktor. Will she find her Gryffindor courage in time or condemn herself to a life of isolation and regret?</p><p>ON HIATUS as of April 2021 while I work on some other projects. Thank you for your patience 💕</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum, Lavender Brown/Hermione Granger, Past Neville Longbottom/Hannah Abbott - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Bad Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: the characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended.  I make no profit from these works. All stories are for fun and entertainment only. </p><p>I always welcome reviews/comments of people who enjoy my works. </p><p>Thank you for taking the time to read. I hope you enjoy it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Hermione knew it was going to be bad. It was just a question of degree and severity. She had made him angry yesterday, she knew it. But by the time she’d come home, he had been asleep, or pretending to be. She was not fool enough to imagine for a single minute that she had escaped his wrath in the matter though. No, this was but a brief reprieve. It would not be long before he sought to punish her for any perceived humiliation or slight, no matter how small. Judging from how cold his manner had been towards her at breakfast this morning, he was no doubt thinking of a suitable retribution. Gone were the days when they would fight and have the argument forgotten by the morning. How she missed the Draco of then! He would act as if no words had passed between them and greet her with a kiss, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and an omelette and nothing more would ever be said of the previous night’s disagreement. But that Draco was gone. The one she lived with now was <em>terrifying, </em>if she had to put a word to it.</p><p> </p><p>The old Draco had been miserable, depressed certainly. Sometimes crying in Hermione’s bed at two a.m. and other times so sweet and thoughtful and generous that he hardly seemed like the bullying prat she had known at Hogwarts. This new Draco though, he was <em>cruel </em>and yet she still loved him. Or she thought she did. Mostly she just felt trapped. In this Manor. In this relationship. She had no way out. No money, nowhere to run to. Her parents were still living in some far flung corner of Australia, having refused to return to Britain with her. After she had undone the Memory Modification charms, they had been furious with her. Hurt. Betrayed. They had refused to forgive her and the rare communication she received from them was brief and lacked the old affection she had been accustomed to before the war, before <em>everything. </em>As for money, when she and Draco had first started dating, he had loved to spoil her and insisted that she didn’t need to work – he would take care of everything, take care of <em>her, </em>he wanted to. Now he begrudged every knut he sent her way, even for essentials like the weekly grocery shop. She had been employed in a small part-time job filing papers for the Wizengamot for almost three years now. And she meant <em>part-time. </em>It was barely a half-day per week and the pay was pitiful. A measly eight galleons, five sickles and eleven knuts per week. Certainly not enough for her to afford a place of her own, no matter how much she scrimped and saved.</p><p> </p><p>Her job was why Draco was angry at her. Or at least part of the reason. Her birthday was the other part of it. It didn’t matter how many times she had told him she was working; he had insisted on throwing her an extravagant and lavish party to celebrate her twenty second birthday. Frankly, had she known the tension it would cause, she would have preferred to skip the occasion entirely.  It  hadn’t felt like <em>her </em>party anyway. None of her friends or family had been in attendance or even been invited. No, all the invitees were of the pureblood persuasion, ex-Death Eaters, most if not all Slytherins she had barely spoken two words to before. And the ones she had spoken to, she didn’t like. Draco’s parents for example and Pansy, Flint and Goyle.</p><p> </p><p>She had done the best she could. She had smiled and thanked people for coming and for the gifts and even sampled some of Narcissa’s disgustingly sweet trifle soaked in sherry, which gave her a headache and tasted <em>foul</em>. However, she had known (and so had Draco) that she was working on the day. But he had been too much engaged with the guests to pay her any mind, so she had slipped away without a word and gone to the office to <em>do her job. </em>It was the only time of the week when she didn’t have to put up with Draco’s anger or his constant drinking. He went to bed with a bottle of scotch beside him and woke at six a.m. and started the day by pouring himself a drink. She could constantly smell it on his breath, and he couldn’t even fly his stupid broomstick in the grounds without a bottle of scotch between his legs <em>in case he got thirsty. </em>She hated the constant drinking; it did not bring out a pleasant side of him. At first, he would be witty and charming and funny, and then the more he drank, the moodier he would become, until he was downright unreasonable and aggressive, and it was she who usually caught the worst of it, after everyone else had gone home for the day. So, knowing he would be drinking and that her absence wouldn’t go unnoticed, she had tarried longer than she should have at the Ministry. The truth was she didn’t want to go home to face Draco’s foul mood. But when she finally had, she had found him asleep. It was too much to hope that he would let it pass, however.</p><p> </p><p>He’d hardly said a word to her all day, beyond telling her briefly and in the coldest of tones that they would be having a guest to dinner. She had merely nodded, finding nothing to say with those icy grey eyes of steel fixed on her. She could suffer through one dinner, she thought, spending the rest of the afternoon out with Neville. They’d gone to Hogsmeade to visit the ‘<em>Dogweed &amp; Deathcap’ </em>store – Neville had a list of exotic plants he was trying to obtain for a new greenhouse at Hogwarts Professor Sprout was letting him use for herbology experiments. Neville had recently accepted a position at St Mungo's as a Healer, but continued to enjoy a shared interest in Herbology with Professor Sprout.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione returned to the Manor late in the afternoon, avoiding Draco to the best of her ability, without making it seem obvious that she was doing so. But it hardly mattered. Draco was down in the kitchens supervising the house-elves in their dinner preparations. Hermione’s stomach rolled at the proposed menu but she said nothing, knowing Draco was expecting a reaction out of her. <em>Seafood. </em>Shellfish to be precise. She was allergic to shellfish and Draco knew it. If that was all that he came up with to punish her, she would consider it getting off easy.</p><p> </p><p>Dinnertime came, and with it, their guest for the evening. Hermione tried not to glare, but inwardly she was seething. It was not the first time Draco had cheated on her; she knew that. But to parade the witch in front of Hermione, and force them to eat together at the same table was just too  much. Add to that the fact that the woman had shared Draco’s bed for the last two weeks and was currently married to Theo Nott, Draco’s supposed best friend, and the last of Hermione’s appetite fled. She pushed the food around on her plate, not even bothering to pretend to eat. Shellfish which she was allergic to and avocado. Hermione was not a fan of green mush. Especially not green mush floating in butter on a bed of seafood.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne Nott made Hermione want to gag even more than the unappealing food. She was constantly touching Draco’s arm, sliding her hand under his shirt even and it was all Hermione could do not to fling the food at her disgustingly perfect face. Hermione balled her hands into fists below the tablecloth as Daphne giggled girlishly and made some comment about the outdated décor.</p><p> </p><p>“When I move in here, I’ll be sure to bring my interior decorator with me. She would add such wonderful flair and taste to these old furnishings," Daphne said contemptuously.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione froze. <em>Move in? </em>She felt sick and wanted to leave the table, but with Draco’s hard stare on her, she didn’t dare move.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t imagine your <em>husband </em>would be pleased with that living arrangement, Mrs Nott," Hermione snapped before she could stop herself.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne looked affronted. But it was the angry flash of Draco’s eyes that made Hermione’s gut clench with fear. <em>Now she’d done it. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Hermione,” Draco said coldly, setting down his glass of scotch. “A word, if you please.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione didn’t dare refuse, and followed Draco down the hall to the bathroom. He shut the door behind them, casting locking and silencing charms, so they wouldn’t be disturbed or overheard.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione waited nervously for Draco to speak, thinking regretfully that she’d left her wand in her jacket pocket in the foyer after returning from shopping with Neville.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m really getting tired of your attitude,” Draco said quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>My </em>attitude?” Hermione repeated furiously.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re deliberately rude to our dinner guest. You storm out on the party I threw for you yesterday. Do you have any idea how <em>embarrassing </em>that was?” Draco hissed.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>You’re </em>the one parading <em>whores</em> through our house!” Hermione replied, wincing and stumbling back when Draco dealt her a vicious backhand across the face.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione held a hand to her burning cheek, tears stinging her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>My </em>house,” Draco said firmly. “<em>My rules. </em>You should show me some respect," he spat furiously; his grey eyes narrowed.</p><p> </p><p>“I will when you deserve it!” Hermione said angrily, forgetting herself for a minute.</p><p> </p><p>Draco hit her again. Harder this time, and Hermione cried out, clutching her swollen cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“You ungrateful <em>Mudblood," </em>Draco said angrily, drawing his wand. “I have given you <em>everything! </em>A roof over your head, food on the table, clothes on your back and <em>this </em>is how you repay me? If you can’t show me the respect I deserve, I’ll just have to <em>teach</em> you your place...” he said venomously, a dangerous gleam shining in his pale eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione knew what was coming before the incantation left Draco’s lips. She braced herself, but even if she had been holding her wand, there was no defending against the Cruciatus curse that tore into her, ripping scream after scream from her throat as she writhed helplessly on the cold, stone floor, pain stabbing sharply into every part of her. There was no relief, no escape from it and nobody but Draco could hear her screams...</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Broken</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco left her shaking and sobbing on the cold floor.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll let Daphne know you’re not feeling well,” he said softly as he unlocked the door and swept from the room.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione watched him go, a mixture of emotions warring within her. In that moment, she hated him. She <em>fucking </em>hated him. She was done. She had given up everything, <em>everything, </em>for Draco and all it had brought her was pain. She had given up her studies, her friends, her family, her self-respect, and for <em>what? </em>What was the <em>fucking </em>point? No, she told herself, she was done. <em>You win, Daphne. You can have him, </em>Hermione thought sourly.</p><p> </p><p>She slowly sat up, wincing at the pain that shot through her. She took a few deep breaths, gripping the side of the tub for support as she got unsteadily to her feet. Pain coursed through her and for a moment, it was all she could do to stay standing, as her legs wobbled beneath her and a searing pain burned through her abdomen, making it hard to breathe. But the sharp spasms and lingering effects of the Cruciatus gradually faded and she found she could move without feeling as though she was going to collapse.</p><p> </p><p>She reached the bathroom door and pushed it open silently, listening hard for anything that would indicate Draco’s presence nearby. Hearing nothing, she edged carefully into the corridor. She approached the dining room with trepidation, but peering around the door, she found it empty. The elves hadn’t even begun to clear away the plates of uneaten food yet. The sound of giggling and a door clicking shut at the end of the corridor gave her some clue as to Draco and Daphne’s whereabouts. Personally, Hermione hoped Daphne got pregnant; it would be quite the scandal. But, no, the poor child, imagine those two as parents, Hermione thought grimly, with a shake of her head. It was bad enough that Daphne already had a child with Theo. Though from what Hermione had seen and heard, she wasn't much of a mother.</p><p> </p><p>Not wanting to be caught wandering the corridors by Draco, Hermione made her way as quickly as she could to the foyer. She slipped her jacket on, relieved to find her wand still in the pocket where she had left it. Now she wasn’t as defenceless. Not that she would ever dream of taking on Draco in a fight, but it made her feel better just having it in her hand. She snatched up her purse, but left her keys on the small table in the foyer. She had no intention of ever coming back here. She slipped out the front doors, breathing a sigh of relief as the cool night air touched her still throbbing cheek. She walked down the path to the front gate, shutting it behind her as quietly as possible. She looked back at the Manor with its lit windows and perfect gardens, regret sending a painful pang through her. It wasn’t home anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione walked down the road, away from the Manor, relishing the quiet, the night air, the stars overhead, the chirps of night-time insects and the yowl of neighbourhood cats… she wasn’t trapped anymore. She passed thirty or forty minutes in this way, just breathing easy, finally. A car door slammed somewhere nearby and Hermione flinched, flinging her arms over her head instinctively. Heart racing, she was instantly reminded that she wasn’t safe. She considered casting a disillusionment charm, just in case, feeling uneasy. She should get as far from here as possible, before Draco realised she was gone, she thought nervously.</p><p> </p><p>Just as this thought occurred to her, a swirling silver patronus landed in front of her. Hermione’s heart pounded with fear, but she relaxed when she recognised the stag patronus. <em>Harry. </em>Harry wouldn’t hurt her, Hermione thought, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.</p><p> </p><p>“Hermione, where are you? Draco fire-called me and he’s really worried about you. Just let me know you’re okay," the stag said, speaking with the voice of Hermione’s best friend, Harry Potter, before it dissolved into silver mist.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione looked over her shoulder nervously. So, Draco knew she was gone. Was he coming after her? She hoped not, shuddering to think what he would do if he caught up with her. It didn’t bear thinking about. She would go to Harry’s she decided. She would be safe there. Maybe Harry could help her figure out what to do. When had her life become such a mess? She sighed, twisting and vanishing on the spot and apparating to a bus-stop a few streets away from Harry’s place.</p><p> </p><p>Harry met her in the driveway of the cottage where he lived, pulling Hermione into a tight hug. They walked arm in arm through the  green, metal gate. Harry’s cottage was the fourth in a collection of eight cottages, tucked right in the middle with tall hedges and neighbours on all sides. Harry ushered Hermione through the door, stepping in after her.</p><p> </p><p>“Tea?” Harry offered, lighting the room with a wave of his wand.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure," Hermione shrugged, sliding her jacket off and draping it over a chair.</p><p> </p><p>“Hermione,” Harry said slowly, turning to look at her.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Hermione said uncomprehendingly.</p><p> </p><p>“Your cheek and your- your <em>eye!</em>” Harry exclaimed.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione cursed, raising a hand to cover her swollen cheek and bruised eye, but too late, Harry had seen.</p><p> </p><p>Harry pulled her hand away, seething.</p><p> </p><p>“Who did this to you?” he demanded, his green eyes flashing.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing! Its - no one. I - I… <em>fell,</em>” she stammered, her cheeks flushing with colour.</p><p> </p><p>“Into Draco’s fist?” Harry said coldly.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione bit her lip and said nothing.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m getting you that tea and an ice pack and then we are going to talk about this,” Harry said firmly.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but she knew it was useless to argue with Harry. He had <em>that </em>look on his face.</p><p> </p><p>Harry set a steaming cup of tea in front of Hermione. She curled her hands around it, just to have something to do that didn’t involve seeing the pity in Harry’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Here," he said, passing Hermione a frozen bag of peas for her swollen cheek.</p><p> </p><p>She took it gratefully, a little sigh escaping her at the welcome relief of the cold on her burning cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“So, tell me…” Harry said gently, though Hermione could tell he was trying not to show how angry he was.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione bit her lip and shook her head mutely, fighting the lump that rose in her throat. She couldn’t,<em> wouldn’t, </em>cry in front of Harry. She shut her eyes for a moment, fighting for control as she let out a shaky breath and lowered the frozen bag of peas to the table, not looking at Harry. Hermione pressed her lips together, refusing to let the sob rising in her chest escape. She had shed enough tears over Draco.</p><p> </p><p>“Hermione?” Harry prompted her after a minute.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s nothing to talk about," Hermione managed, covering the waver in her voice by raising the cup to her lips and taking a hasty sip of too-hot tea, scalding her tongue.</p><p> </p><p>A concerned frown creased Harry’s brow.</p><p> </p><p>“If you want, I can talk to Draco for you…” Harry offered.</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Hermione exclaimed immediately. “Please - don’t do that," she said quietly, absently turning her promise ring around and around on her finger.</p><p> </p><p>The silver Celtic knot had been Draco’s gift to her when she had moved into the Manor. <em>You and me, in it together, no matter what… </em>A promise he had failed to keep time and time again. She took the ring off and set it on the table, resisting the urge to fling it across the room and scream.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want me to do, Hermione?” Harry asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing. I don’t know," Hermione said uncertainly.</p><p> </p><p>“You two need to work this out," Harry told her gently.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded mutely, even though she didn’t agree at all. There was nothing to work out. Draco had used her, and abused her, cheated on her; she had <em>nothing</em> left to give him. And that was the point, wasn’t it? She had been useful once. Gryffindor’s golden girl, Harry Potter’s best friend… She had helped salvage Draco’s reputation, kept him out of prison and propped him up through the depression and drinking binges, but he was done with her now.</p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t compare to a woman like Daphne Nott. Someone with connections, class, <em>money – </em>especially if she divorced Theo and took half his assets. Even thirty percent would make her a very rich woman indeed, hence her attractiveness to Draco. Daphne was a means to an end. Hermione had been too. And that end had now been reached; she was no longer of use.</p><p> </p><p>“Mind if I stay tonight?” Hermione asked, the words tasting like skele-gro coming out of her mouth. She <em>hated </em>asking for help or favours from anyone.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure," Harry said. “Stay as long as you need, at least until you work out what you’re going to do.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione mulled that over as she lay on the bed in Harry’s spare room, deprived of sleep. She didn’t know what she was going to do. She only knew what she was <em>not </em>going to do. She was never going back there. <em>Never. </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Despite her resolve, Hermione found herself returning to the Manor a few days later, gripping her wand tightly in her hand, her eye now a brilliant shade of mottled green and purple. Draco was at work anyway; Harry had managed to confirm that much; she was safe. She just wanted to pack up her stuff and then she’d never think about Draco again.</p><p> </p><p>She reached out and touched the main gate to push it open like she’d done hundreds of times before, jumping back a moment later with a sharp gasp of pain. Her left palm and fingers blistered painfully, as though they’d been burned.</p><p> </p><p>Realisation sunk in. Draco had warded the Manor and surrounding grounds against her. Hermione bit back an angry sob; he’d really taken everything from her now. She couldn’t even get in to retrieve Crookshanks. What on earth was she going to do?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sucker for Pain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione flung herself down in a patch of long grass in the parklands opposite the Manor gates, casting <em>Muffliato </em>and silencing charms before succumbing to the storm of emotions, chief among them, anger, an overwhelming sense of injustice, and fear. How could she have been so stupid? Why had she ignored all the signs that pointed to this exact eventuality? It was her heart, she realised. Her stupid, <em>stupid </em>heart had blinded her. She knew what Draco was. She had <em>always </em>known. Hadn’t she dreaded his cruel taunts and bullying practically every single day of her years at Hogwarts? But, just one look into those sad grey eyes, one night of holding him in her arms and she had somehow deluded herself into believing that she could save him; she could change him, make him better. She had foolishly believed that this other side of Draco, this sweet, caring, thoughtful, funny, generous man that she had never known existed, could win out over what she now knew to be the real him. The angry, manipulative, calculating, cold-hearted individual who had now ripped her life away from her without hesitation.</p><p> </p><p> She cursed her own naivety and stupidity, letting the tears fall as her eyes burned and her throat constricted, the immense injustice of it all quickly turning to hate. She wondered if she had ever hated anyone this much. She had feared Voldemort certainly, wanted him gone, but she hadn’t felt this intensity of emotion for him, hadn’t wanted to do absolutely unspeakable things to him, or wanted to pay him back with every single curse she knew. But the burning desire for revenge faded as quickly as it had come. She was powerless and she knew it. If she retaliated in any way, Draco would only do something worse. He’d sue her or have her arrested or hurt Crookshanks. Draco held all the cards and she held none, she realised bitterly. So the question was, <em>what now? </em></p><p> </p><p>She didn’t have the money to afford a place of her own, or the experience or qualifications to get a better job than the pathetic one she already had. She could forget about reconciling with Draco; the only way he would take her back was if she begged and grovelled on her knees and subjected herself to living under his thumb again, returning to the life of fear and pain she had thought she’d left behind only three days ago. <em>No. </em>Something inside her instantly rebelled against that idea. Maybe it was pride, maybe it was common sense, but she knew she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t stand him anymore and more than that, she would never give him the satisfaction; she would rather die than go begging to him for any favours. Maybe it <em>was</em> pride, she reflected, or shame. Part of her wanted to hide it; she didn’t want Harry to know, she didn’t want his pity and she absolutely did not want him to try and fix things between her and Draco. No, she couldn’t go back to Harry’s either, she realised. She was well and truly on her own.</p><p> </p><p>A plan slowly formed in her mind as she remembered those months on the run with Harry and Ron, when they’d camped all over Britain. They hadn’t needed a house then, maybe she didn’t need one now. She could get by, at least until a better plan presented itself.</p><p> </p><p>A little hope stirring within her, Hermione got to her feet with grim determination. She didn’t need Draco. Not anymore, she thought with a stubborn lift of her chin, as she apparated away, landing in a narrow alley near the Leaky Cauldron. What she needed now was supplies, Hermione decided resolutely, stepping inside the pub.</p><p> </p><p>She greeted Tom the barman and the few familiar patrons with a nod and a forced smile, as she made her way out into the little stone courtyard where the entrance to Diagon Alley was located. Hermione drew her wand and tapped a certain brick in the wall, tapping her foot impatiently as the archway and entrance to Diagon Alley appeared. She stepped onto the cobblestoned street and began to walk at a brisk pace, hurrying past other shoppers and stores, searching for one in particular. She walked all the way to the end of the alley and looked around feeling disoriented, maybe she’d missed it. No, there it was! <em>Turpin’s Tarps &amp; Trails – ‘Happy campers since 1804.’ </em></p><p> </p><p>Hermione stepped inside the shop, waving vaguely to the proprietor, as she began looking around for what she needed. What she really wanted was a tent, something compact, sturdy, and weatherproof especially with winter coming in a few months’ time. But looking at the prices, Hermione recoiled. She was all too well aware of how meagre her savings truly were. Her little coin purse certainly couldn’t afford a top of the range tent. Not even a middle of the range one if she wanted to be able to afford to feed herself this week. She settled on the cheapest tent available – the magically extended interior was a given of course. That was part of the reason Hermione had come to a wizarding camping shop rather than a cheaper Muggle one. She needed the additional comforts magic could provide, so she didn’t feel so… <em>homeless. </em>The word was a bitter one for her to even think to herself, but it was the reality of her situation.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione picked up the small tent, hoping it was worth the price tag of forty one Galleons. Already, that was more than half her savings gone. She bit her lip uncertainly, but there was no way around it. If she went to Harry and asked for the tent they had used when they’d been on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry, he would want to know <em>why</em>, and she wasn’t sure she could lie convincingly to him. On her way to the counter, she also picked up a sleeping bag. At least this was cheaper than the tent. Only six Galleons. As an afterthought, she also picked up a small sturdy backpack. This would do nicely, she thought to herself. She had left her beaded bag on her dresser at Draco’s, so her little coin purse was all she had, and realistically she didn’t want to be lugging a tent around the place. Hermione paid for her purchases, inwardly cringing at the total of fifty eight Galleons, three Sickles, and nineteen Knuts. But it was all essential and she’d be glad she’d spent it when she was warm and dry tonight, she told herself, walking back down Diagon Alley.</p><p> </p><p>She stopped in at <em>Madam Malkin’s</em> to purchase a few winter things that were on sale, quite pleased with a thick cloak that could act as an extra blanket on cold nights. Hermione’s last stop for the day was the <em>Malediction Kitchen </em>to pick up a few groceries. She would have to wait to see what cooking utensils were included when she set up the tent, so for now she contented herself with a box of cereal, several packages of crackers and some kwik-noodles. Her coin purse was sadly light by now, but Hermione reminded herself, yet again, that she would manage, and things would work out fine.</p><p> </p><p>She had to work hard to convince herself of that later. No matter where she apparated to, looking for a spot to set up the tent for the night, she couldn’t rid herself of the sense of uneasiness and fear that overwhelmed her, even with disillusionment charms and protective spells cast. <em>I want to go home; </em>her mind would scream at her in the dark. But she couldn’t. Home wasn’t with Draco anymore and it wasn’t with Harry either, especially as she couldn’t bring herself to admit to him just how pathetic and desperate she had become.</p><p> </p><p>Too insecure and frightened to be completely alone, Hermione gave up and apparated to Harry’s. She got as far as the gate and hesitated. <em>No, I can’t tell him. I can never tell him,</em> Hermione thought ashamedly, walking back down the long driveway to the street. She turned the corner of the block, walking halfway down and pausing. She could see the light shining from Harry’s window and it made her ache for home. Home was there. <em>Harry. </em>Harry was her best friend and her home, Hermione thought, a powerful ache filling her. She felt safe with him, she just wanted to be near him, just knowing he was close-by…</p><p> </p><p>Hermione disillusioned herself and bounded up the rock wall, climbing into Harry’s backyard without a second thought. The curtains were shut, but she could see the dim glow around the edge of the window and hear the muffled sounds of whatever show he was watching on television. She could just imagine him sitting there in his living room with a nice cup of tea, relaxing after a long day. Hermione felt her own fears recede somewhat; she was safe  here. She retreated to the bottom of the small garden and set her backpack down, before drawing her wand and casting silencing and <em>muffliato </em>charms. She walked in a circle around the bag, casting disillusionment spells, and every protective charm that came to mind, as well as a clever notice-me-not spell, in case Harry should happen to wander into the garden or recognise her spellwork.</p><p> </p><p>She pulled the tent from the bag and pointed her wand at it.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Erecto!” </em>Hermione whispered, as poles, canvas and pegs all flew silently into place.</p><p> </p><p>There. Her new <em>home </em>was ready, Hermione thought with relief. She crawled into the tent, dragging the small backpack with her. It was small inside. <em>Cosy, </em>Hermione corrected herself, trying hard not to be disappointed. It had cost her a lot of money after all. The kitchen was small, consisting of little more than a counter and a sink, and the sofa was more than a little lumpy, but there was a bed and Hermione walked over to it, feeling suddenly very tired. It had been a stressful few days. Hell, a stressful few <em>years. </em></p><p> </p><p>She pulled the sleeping bag out of her backpack and unrolled it, watching the sleek black and blue material settle on the bed.</p><p> </p><p><em>It’s not much… but it’s home, </em>she thought, not even bothering to change her clothes before sliding into the warmth of the sleeping bag, using her backpack as a pillow as she had neglected to purchase one. She would consider buying one later perhaps, maybe after payday, she would be able to afford a cheap one.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione rolled over as she tried to get comfortable, her last thoughts before sleep claimed her of the warm glow of a window, the comfort of being near to her best friend and the relief that came with not going back to a house filled with slamming doors, breaking glass, curses and violence… Her new life might be simpler and more meagre than the one she’d had with Draco, but here at least, she was free.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Blindsided</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A new daily routine had begun for Hermione. Every morning at four forty five a.m. the muted vibrating alarm on her wand would go off and she would get up in the dark, use the <em>aguamenti</em> charm to fill an old stovetop kettle she’d gotten cheap at a second-hand shop (and cleaned thoroughly with <em>scourgify</em> charms) and set it to boil on a tiny rusted camp stove, kindled with her signature bluebell flames. When the water was hot, she would pour herself a cup of tea and watch the sun rise through the little mesh window of the hidden tent. She would hear Harry’s alarm go off at six a.m. and make a second cup of tea while she listened to the comforting and familiar sounds of him getting ready for the day; flicking the Wizarding Wireless on to the local news, setting the kettle to boil, and running the shower, the rumble of the bathroom fan reaching her ears even from the yard. By eight a.m. Harry would leave the house and disapparate to the Ministry of Magic for work. He wouldn’t return until six or seven at night sometimes, and knowing the dangers of his job, Hermione would wait anxiously for the living room lights to flick on, her ears straining for the sound of the heavy front door slamming shut that would indicate Harry had returned home safe.</p><p> </p><p> Hermione usually went to the local Muggle library between the hours of nine a.m. and four p.m. where she would sit all day reading at her leisure, sometimes taking a small break to nibble at some crackers or walk around the block to get some fresh air. It was the most peace she had had in her life for quite some time. And though she was ever fearful of being discovered by Harry, every night when she slid into her sleeping bag in the tent, a feeling of contentment and safety would wash over her.</p><p> </p><p>That wasn’t to say that she hadn’t nearly been caught by Harry once. He had come into the garden unexpectedly (to water it she supposed) and in her panic at being caught in the open, and despite the fact she’d been disillusioned at the time, Hermione had run like a rabbit and tumbled over next door’s low picket fence, landing almost face first in a dense lavender bush. She hadn’t dared to move even an inch when Harry had opened the back door and come outside a moment later. But she’d gone undetected on that occasion and Hermione smiled thinking about it, knowing Ron would have found it hysterical.</p><p> </p><p>She continued in the Ministry’s employ, working a half day a week for the Wizengamot, occasionally swiping sweets from the jar one of the court justices kept in their desk. Hermione only wished her job payed better, but she told herself she had all she needed. Something better would come along eventually, and in the meantime, she had been applying for other jobs, but no letters for an interview had yet arrived. Things continued in this way for several months, as winter deepened and the cold began to worsen.</p><p> </p><p>The weather had turned miserable on one particular Thursday afternoon. There was a wild wind blowing, storm clouds were gathering overhead, and a heavy rain was pouring down, the droplets like needles on Hermione’s skin, her clothing very soon drenched.</p><p> </p><p>Wet and exhausted, she trudged up the footpath on her way back from the library, anxious to return to the shelter of the tent, where she would at least be warm, dry, and most importantly, out of this bone-chilling cold. Frankly, she wouldn’t be surprised if it snowed tonight. She passed a playground as she walked, pausing for a moment under the branches of a tree which provided a little shelter from the persistent rain to catch her breath. She had forgotten to take a break to eat something today and it was making her feel extra tired and a little faint, combined with the headache that was making her temples throb. Hermione steadied herself against the tree, preparing to continue on her way home. It felt twice as far when she was so tired. She glanced at the playground, but it was empty of children today; hardly surprising in this miserable weather she supposed. The only other person around was an old man playing with his dog; a Golden Retriever. Well, he wasn’t <em>that </em>old she supposed, maybe in his mid-fifties? Hermione paused to watch him for a moment, her eyes following the happy, romping play of the dog as it loped through puddles, chasing a stick.</p><p> </p><p>“You alright there, missy?” The man from the playground said, appearing in front of Hermione on the path.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione managed not to jump, curling her right hand into a tight fist to release some of the nervous energy, her heart pounding in her chest from the man’s unexpected appearance.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine," Hermione said, making a brave attempt at an awkward laugh as she attempted to smooth her rain-soaked hair. “Just…out for a walk," she said feebly.</p><p> </p><p>The man frowned thoughtfully.</p><p> </p><p>“Not a very nice day for it," he said doubtfully, scratching his head. Hermione saw the glint of a gold wedding band on his left hand. Up close, he was very tan and olive-skinned, younger than she had supposed from a distance. Maybe he was of Greek or Italian descent. But it would be rude to ask, she reminded herself.</p><p> </p><p>The dog came running up then, giving Hermione a good sniff and then wagging his tail and doing his best to lick her face. Hermione laughed and stroked his big golden head.</p><p> </p><p>“Where you headed?” the man asked her, as she petted the dog with the first genuine smile she’d worn in weeks.</p><p> </p><p>“Home,” Hermione said in reply, glancing at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Had enough of the rain then, Maverick?” he said to the dog, as the pup shook his rain-flecked coat, water droplets coating Hermione’s sleeves.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry about that," the man said apologetically, giving the dog a stern look. But Maverick just wagged his tail, giving them that dopey doggie grin that Hermione so adored. “In the car, Maverick. Come on, up!” the man called, opening the rear passenger door of a black station wagon. Maverick hopped happily into the car, as his owner shut the door behind him.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I offer you a lift, miss? You’ll catch your death walking in all this rain," the man said kindly.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, no, I couldn’t trouble you. It isn’t far," Hermione protested immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s no trouble," he assured her. “I couldn’t forgive myself if I let something happen to a pretty young thing like you.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione blushed at his comment. She hadn’t been called pretty in a long time.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, alright then," she agreed hesitantly. “Thank you," she added, as he opened the car door for her and ushered her inside, shutting it firmly after her.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione’s pulse thrummed nervously as the car engine started. She was in a car with a strange man and she didn’t even know his name. This had <em>bad idea </em>written all over it. A harmless old man with a dog, she reminded herself. And he was married, she could see his wedding ring from here. He was probably a good Catholic, in church every Sunday with his wife and grandkids. She was being silly. She tried to relax, the man peppering her with questions as he drove. <em>What was her name? How had her day been? Was she studying or working? Where did she live? </em>Hermione felt a little uncomfortable with all the questions, but answered as best she could, giving the man directions to Harry’s street. She could make her way from there.</p><p> </p><p>“Turn just here," Hermione told him, seeing Harry’s street just up ahead, but the man drove right past it.</p><p> </p><p>“You missed it," Hermione said, trying not to sound alarmed.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” the man said distractedly. “Not to worry, we’ll get there soon enough.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione watched the road anxiously, part of her itching to grab her wand, which was hidden in the left zipper pocket of the backpack at her feet.</p><p> </p><p>The man did nothing to soothe her increasing anxiety when he failed to turn the car around at all, and instead pulled into a vacant dirt lot.</p><p> </p><p>“Here we are," he announced pleasantly.</p><p> </p><p>“This isn’t it,” Hermione said, frowning in confusion as she glanced out the window, trying to work out where she was, the street an unfamiliar one.</p><p> </p><p>That moment of confused disorientation was all it took for the man to be on her, climbing across the centre console and straddling her legs, kneeling over her as his weight pinned her to the seat.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione gave a squeak of mingled surprise and terror as the man’s lips covered hers in a sloppy, wet kiss, his tongue sliding effortlessly into her open, protesting mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t—” Hermione tried to protest, as the man rubbed her breasts, squeezing them a few times before his hand drifted downwards, shoving the front of her black leggings down and sliding his fingers between her legs as Hermione struggled weakly beneath him, her hand scrabbling uselessly for the door handle, but it was locked and he was too strong for her, his weight feeling like it was crushing her much smaller body.</p><p> </p><p>Terror rose in Hermione’s throat as the man reached between them and she felt the head of something blunt and unfamiliar bumping against her opening.</p><p> </p><p>“N-n-ooooo!” Hermione begged. “Please,” she whispered, tears starting to fall from her eyes, knowing what was coming.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry. It’ll be ..ugh… over soon," the man grunted, deaf to her pleas as he thrust into her hard, the painfully dry friction of his cock tearing into her, stretching her inner walls forcefully. Hermione gave up struggling after the first few hard, dry thrusts and lay still and sobbed as he sawed in and out of her, each thrust harder than the last, until he finally spilled himself inside her with a grunt, collapsing against her.</p><p> </p><p>A minute or two later, he clambered awkwardly off her, tucking himself back into his trousers. Hermione pulled her leggings back up and leaned down, snatching up her bag and her wand. She cast a wordless charm through her sobs, unlocking the door and slinging her backpack over her shoulder, as she took off running. She didn’t care where she went and the tears that came hot and fast blinded her so that she could barely see as she ran down first one street and then the next.</p><p> </p><p><em>How could she have been so stupid? </em>She berated herself as she ran, the storm clouds above unleashing a torrential downpour of rain that mingled with her tears as Hermione sloshed through rivers of water flooding over her shoes. She glanced quickly left and then right as she ran across a busy road, misjudging the distance as one car narrowly missed her. Too soaked and traumatised to pay much heed to the traffic, Hermione continued across the road, looking up just in time to see a pair of glowing orange headlights and hear the deafening blare of a horn before something heavy collided with her, sending her wand spinning out of her hand, a blinding, sickening pain filling her before she fell into merciful unconsciousness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Everybody Hurts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione lingered on the edge of a deep sleep, gradually becoming more aware. Her limbs felt unusually heavy, and her thoughts seemed slow, lacking her usual quickness. A dull ache slowly spread through her, along with wakefulness, her brown eyes slowly fluttering open.</p><p> </p><p>A bright light glared overhead, and Hermione winced and stifled a pained moan, squinting blearily at her surroundings.</p><p> </p><p>“Easy there,” a voice said quietly.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione turned her head too quickly to see who the voice belonged to, the movement sending pain shooting through her neck.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re safe. <em>Safe," t</em>he voice repeated slowly, and looking to her right, Hermione realised the voice belonged to a nurse who was sitting in a chair in the corner of her room.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, do you know where you are?” the woman asked, moving nearer to the bed.</p><p> </p><p>  Hermione glanced at the whitewashed walls, smelled the antiseptic in the air and looked at the nurse with a grimace.</p><p> </p><p>“Hospital," she surmised with a sigh.</p><p> </p><p>“My name is Joan, I’m a nurse here," she explained with a little nod. “Do you know how you got here?” Joan asked gently, meeting Hermione’s wide eyed stare.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione paused, mulling the question over. It had been dark, she had been running scared… Had someone been chasing her? Draco? No… she thought, frowning in confusion and shaking her head, desperately trying to make sense of it all.</p><p> </p><p>“You were hit by a car," Joan stated slowly, watching Hermione’s reaction closely.</p><p> </p><p>Well that explained the pain, and the Muggle hospital, Hermione thought grimly.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you tell me your name?” Joan asked, as Hermione looked at her questioningly. “We couldn’t find any I.D on you,” she explained.</p><p> </p><p>“Hermione. Hermione Granger," she replied, watching Joan note it on her chart.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you tell me what happened to you, Harmony?” Joan asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Her-MY-oh-nee," she replied through gritted teeth. “Probably go faster if you tell me," Hermione added, starting to get a little impatient with all of Joan’s questions.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright," Joan said softly, looking at Hermione with an expression that said <em>brace yourself. </em>“According to your chart, you were brought here by ambulance around five p.m. last night. There were lacerations to your face, back and abdomen, your collarbone was broken, along with three ribs and your right leg which suffered <em>three </em>individual breaks to the tibia. The lower leg bone," she added. “You were rushed into surgery to stabilise the damage to your leg which required the bone to be screwed to a titanium plate… It was also noted in your examination that there were signs you’d recently been <em>sexually assaulted,"</em> Joan paused as Hermione winced, the memory now fresh in her mind.</p><p> </p><p>“Your x-rays show a number of previous fractures and tissue damage that haven’t healed properly," Joan continued, ‘and there’s a request here for a psych consult relating to a suspected history of rape, domestic violence and self-harm, judging from that scar on your arm. I’m not sure what a ‘Mudblood’ is, neither is the doctor who’s been assigned to your case, but it’s clearly a derogatory term of some kind. Frankly, it is a minor miracle that you didn’t suffer severe head or spinal injuries from the accident,” Joan finished, as Hermione reeled from the information dump.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay," Hermione said quietly, not looking at her. Joan had no idea. She didn’t know <em>anything. </em>The stupid woman, Hermione thought savagely.</p><p> </p><p> “Okay?” Joan repeated incredulously.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay," Hermione said, with a half shrug that sent pain shooting through her collarbone, but it was worth it to see the look of disbelief on Joan’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have any questions?” Joan asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Nope," Hermione said. “No, wait I do have one," she added.</p><p> </p><p>Joan looked at her enquiringly.</p><p> </p><p>“When can I go home?” Hermione asked.</p><p> </p><p>“When the police have taken your statement. When the doctor has cleared you and when you provide the name and number of a family member whose care you will be released into for the duration of your recovery and likely rehab needed for your leg," Joan replied stiffly.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione narrowed her eyes. She would never be treated like this at St Mungo’s… everyone in the wizarding world knew who she was: Hermione Granger – War Hero.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine. I’ll speak to the police then," she said, hating the pathetic waver in her voice at the thought of reliving her ordeal. “But I don’t have any family in the country,” Hermione admitted. “My parents live in Australia.”</p><p> </p><p>“A friend then," Joan said. “You need <em>someone. </em>The doctor won’t clear you without knowing you have some kind of support at home, especially with the kind of lengthy recovery you’re facing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine," Hermione said stubbornly, wishing Joan would just go away.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s the name?” Joan asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Harry Potter," Hermione supplied dully. If she knew what had happened to her wand, she would just hex Joan and check herself out, broken leg or not.</p><p> </p><p>She was just thankful Harry insisted on keeping some aspects of his life Muggle, including having a working phone, something most wizards didn’t bother with.</p><p> </p><p>“I want to talk to him," Hermione said quietly, as Joan gave Harry the basics of Hermione’s injuries over the phone. Joan huffed, but allowed it, passing the phone to Hermione.</p><p> </p><p>“Harry?” she said into the phone, her voice breaking a little.</p><p> </p><p>“Hermione, are you alright?” Harry asked with concern.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m in a bit of a situation…” Hermione said half-jokingly. “Just get here soon. Please?” she said, her vulnerability showing for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be right there. I promise. Just hang in there," Harry said reassuringly.</p><p> </p><p>It was a good fifteen or twenty minutes before Harry finally arrived. Hermione having sobbed her way through a difficult police interview with only Joan for company. She’d held up bravely until they had asked her for specific details of what had happened. But it was done now. Hermione wanted to be sick. She wanted to go home. She wanted to sleep for a month. She wanted Harry.</p><p> </p><p>At least one of her wishes was granted, as her best friend entered the hospital room. Hermione was relieved to see he was in a leather jacket and jeans, rather than his Auror robes. That would have been difficult to explain to Joan, who swooped immediately on Harry and led him out to the reception desk to fill out paperwork before he’d managed to do much more than nod and smile at Hermione.</p><p> </p><p>He was back soon however, pushing an empty wheelchair.</p><p> </p><p>“I am not getting in that,” Hermione declared stubbornly.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, you are," Harry declared, equally as stubborn. “And you’re going to let me take care of you, and take you to appointments and get you pain potions and anything else you need. Because I am your <em>friend," </em>he said fiercely.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes, too tired to argue. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“Fine. Let’s just get out of here," she said, allowing Harry to help her into the wheelchair.</p><p> </p><p>“Why didn’t you go to St Mungo’s?” Harry asked, as he wheeled her down the corridor.</p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t get a choice. Muggles found me, I guess," Hermione said tiredly.</p><p> </p><p>“We could go to St Mungo’s. Or I could get a Healer to come out to the house probably, if you’d rather," Harry offered.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione sighed. “I don’t want a Healer, Harry," she said quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” Harry asked. “They’d have your injuries fixed up in a minute.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s hard to explain," Hermione said awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p>“Try," Harry said, stopping the wheelchair and walking around to kneel in front of her and look into her face.</p><p> </p><p>“I want — I <em>need, </em>to heal the Muggle way,” Hermione said, not looking at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Harry asked her gently.</p><p> </p><p>“I- I don’t know, okay? I just do!” Hermione said, her eyes flashing.</p><p> </p><p>“You do know," Harry said softly. “And when you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere," he promised, resuming pushing the wheelchair, as Hermione swallowed hard, blinking away the tears that fell without her permission.</p><p> </p><p>They made it all the way to the carpark without another word, Harry humming quietly as he pushed the chair.</p><p> </p><p>“Ready?” he asked, when he was sure nobody else was around.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione nodded grimly and Harry helped her to her feet, making sure she didn’t put any weight on her injured leg.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione clung tightly to him as they apparated together, landing in the living room of Harry’s tiny cottage.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have anti-Apparition wards?” Hermione said incredulously.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t need them," Harry shrugged. “It’s a Muggle area and only you and Ron know exactly where it is anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione nodded vaguely, suddenly overcome with exhaustion.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you hungry at all? Or can I get you some tea?” Harry offered.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I just need to sleep,” Hermione told him with a yawn.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” Harry said, helping her into the spare room, where he peeled back the blankets for her and fluffed up the pillows. Hermione felt tears welling up just watching him. It felt like forever since someone had done anything so sweet for her or cared what happened to her.</p><p> </p><p>Harry helped her lie down, placing a pillow beneath her broken leg and another under her elbow to keep her arm elevated and support her injured collarbone.</p><p> </p><p>“Call out if you need anything," Harry said, stroking her hair in a comforting sort of way before he retreated to turn out the light.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmhmmm…” Hermione mumbled, sleep already claiming her.</p><p> </p><p>She was safe here. Safe and warm…and Harry was here… <em>Safe… </em>She told herself, closing her eyes. She would worry about everything else, <em>think </em>about everything else, tomorrow…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Fall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione opened her eyes, the twisted threads of a tangled dream still playing at the fore of her mind. Yawning, she rolled onto her side and moved to sit up, crying out when sudden pain ripped through her, a throbbing ache pounding through her ribs, arm, collarbone, head and most of all, her leg. The intensity of the pain was so severe that tears quickly sprang to her eyes. She bit back a pained sob, her memories of the previous night slowly returning to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Whoa, Mione. Take it easy… <em>easy,"</em> Harry said, hurrying over to her from where he’d been leaning in the doorway, half hidden. He helped her into a sitting position, piling pillows behind her and cushioning her leg.</p><p> </p><p>“How long have you been standing there?” Hermione asked, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she fought the waves of pain coursing through her.</p><p> </p><p>“Doesn’t matter. What do you need? I’ll get it," Harry said, smoothing back her hair for her. Hermione was certain it looked a right bird’s nest, she hadn’t washed or brushed it in days.</p><p> </p><p>“I need the pain to stop,” Hermione whimpered, hating how weak and pathetic she sounded. She hated the pitying look in Harry’s eyes even more.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll bring you a Pain Potion. I’ve got some in my potions cabinet. But you have to eat something first,” he said gently.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not hungry,” Hermione said miserably, massaging the knee of her right leg with her good hand, which helped a little, though her left arm was still in a sling to support her broken collarbone, and the restriction it placed on her movement added a growing sense of irritation to her pain.</p><p> </p><p>“You still need to eat something, even just a bit of toast,” Harry said coaxingly.</p><p> </p><p>“I want a cup of tea then," Hermione said.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine. Tea and toast it is," Harry said stubbornly as Hermione rolled her eyes, her patience long gone (and she hadn’t had that much to start with).</p><p> </p><p>“At least make it properly. I want <em>tea, </em>not a cup of warm milk like Ronald makes,” she complained.</p><p> </p><p>Harry laughed from the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>“He still sulks about that, you know,” he told her.</p><p> </p><p>“He can sulk all he likes," Hermione declared, hobbling out of her room and collapsing into a chair at the kitchen table with a groan. “What he can’t do is make me tea. Ever. Again.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry threw her a stern look.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” she said defensively.</p><p> </p><p>“You know exactly what,” he said, looking upset. “You have to let me help you. You could hurt yourself, or make your injuries worse.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can make it from my room to the table,” she said stubbornly. “And besides, my leg is part titanium now,” she reminded him, gently tapping the moon-boot that covered her lower leg.</p><p> </p><p>“Still,” Harry said grimly, setting a steaming mug of tea in front of her. He’d remembered to put it in her favourite cup, Hermione realised with a smile. <em>How</em> he was still single she didn’t know.</p><p> </p><p>“How many pieces? And what would you like on your toast?” Harry asked. “Nutella? Jam? Butter? Honey? Peanut butter?”</p><p> </p><p>“One. And just butter’s fine,” Hermione said, sipping her tea, though her arm shook as she raised the cup to her lips.</p><p> </p><p>Harry came back to the table a moment later and set a plate down in front of Hermione. She looked at it and then at him, raising an eyebrow. On the plate was not one, but <em>two </em>pieces of toast, slathered not in butter, but in Molly Weasley’s Blackberry and Apple jam.</p><p> </p><p>“You’d be a terrible waiter. You’re not very good at taking orders,” Hermione said with a little laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“You sound like my boss," Harry said with a grin, before turning serious. “Eat it anyway. The sugar will be good for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“My dentist parents wouldn’t agree," Hermione said with a soft smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, they’re not here, I am. So, do what Healer Harry says and if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you have a sweet," he said with a wink.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, but a <em>nice </em>one. None of those Blood Pops from Honeydukes,” Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. “Watermelon flavour or no deal,” she added, starting on her toast.</p><p> </p><p>“Done," Harry said. “Finish your toast and I’ll bring you some pain potion and a sweet. Let me just send an owl to the Ministry to let them know I’ll be off for the rest of the week.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to — ” Hermione started.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em>want </em>to," Harry said firmly. “Casimir!” he called to a spotted owl preening itself on a perch by the back door. “Come here. I need you to take this to Kingsley for me,” he said, quickly scribbling a note which the owl clamped in its beak, taking off through the open living room window.</p><p> </p><p>Harry returned to the table with a bottle of jade green Pain Potion and a small measuring cup. He consulted the instructions on the bottle carefully.</p><p> </p><p>“For the temporary relief of pain and/or inflammation… Take with food. Not for Muggle use. Dosage: two hundred millilitres, then one hundred to two hundred millilitres every four to six hours as necessary (maximum six hundred millilitres in a twenty four hour period). Warning: do not exceed recommended dose. Excessive use can be harmful and increase the risk of heart attack, stroke, liver damage, long-term incapacitation of magical core of the witch or wizard…” Harry read aloud.</p><p> </p><p>“For Salazar’s sake, just pour two hundred millilitres, Harry," Hermione said impatiently.</p><p> </p><p>“Just being careful," Harry shrugged, pouring it and passing the little cup to her. “It’s strong this stuff.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hope so," Hermione said grimly, draining the cup in one and pulling a face at the bitter taste.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I should have a shower," Harry said. “Will you be alright? I can move you to the couch in the living room if you’d prefer. You can watch TV or read," he offered.</p><p> </p><p>“I might have another cup of tea first," Hermione said.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get it for you," Harry said immediately, snatching up her cup before she could protest.</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head with a sigh as he busied himself with the kettle; there was no escaping Healer Harry.</p><p> </p><p>“Here we are," he said a few minutes later, setting a hot cup of tea in front of her along with a little plate of ginger grindylow biscuits.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s my sweet?” Hermione said teasingly.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get you a whole packet of them today," Harry promised, snagging a biscuit before disappearing into the bathroom.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione let the smile drop from her face after the door shut behind him. Honestly, it was exhausting keeping up with all the banter and smiles so that Harry wouldn’t see how bad the pain was, how broken she felt.</p><p> </p><p>It didn’t help that the pain potion wasn’t working. The deep throbbing aches in her body seemed just as bad as they had been ten minutes ago. She eyed the bottle of pain potion, maybe just a little extra would take the edge off her pain? Surely two hundred millilitres was just for average, run-of-the-mill pain, not broken bones and legs screwed to titanium plates kind of pain. She poured out another two hundred millilitres and drank it without a second thought.</p><p> </p><p>Within a few minutes the pain receded, and Hermione leaned back in the chair, feeling nothing but a pleasant warmth, almost as though she’d been basking in a patch of sunlight. She felt a little lightheaded; a dizzying, floaty feeling washing over her. Suddenly nothing seemed to matter as much as it had, it was just pleasant and warm and she was maybe a little sleepy even, but there was no pain. No pain at all, just this floating airy feeling of tranquil comfort. She slowly drifted to sleep right there in the chair, her chin resting on her chest, oblivious to everything around her, her mind and body finally free of pain.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>She woke hours later and stared bewildered at her surroundings, completely disoriented. She was lying on the couch in the living room, but she was certain the last place she remembered being was the table in the dining room.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Sleeping Beauty," Harry said softly.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione blinked blearily at him.</p><p> </p><p>“What time is it?” she asked, stifling a yawn.</p><p> </p><p>“Almost two in the afternoon,” Harry replied. “You must’ve really needed the sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm… must have," Hermione said sleepily, a dull ache starting to return to her already.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I fix you some lunch?” Harry asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure," Hermione said, yawning again. “And some tea?” she added.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Harry said, disappearing into the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione lay back and stared at the ceiling, pondering things.  </p><p> </p><p>Despite the warning label on the potion bottle, nothing terrible had happened. No stroke, heart attack, liver damage, her magical core seemed to be intact. So she had been right, she thought. The recommended dose was for minor pain. When hers was bad she could get away with a double dose without anything catastrophic happening to her. Well, if there was no harm in it…</p><p> </p><p>She took another double dose of pain potion after dinner when Harry left her alone in the living room to do the dishes. She slipped into that same floating, tranquil sleep where nothing hurt and no nightmares plagued her, not waking until nearly nine the next morning.</p><p> </p><p>It soon became a habit for her to escape the pain in this way. She would take a double dose of pain potion three, sometimes four times a day, disappearing into that floating dream world where nothing was pain, and everything was floating and warmth and peaceful serenity. And if Harry noticed how sleepy she was of late, he said nothing about it, attributing it to her needing to sleep to recover her energy in the wake of the natural exhaustion that came with the pain of injuries. She’d broken more bones at once than he ever had in six years of Quidditch, not counting the time Lockhart had removed all the bones in his arm.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>But there came a day when the pain just wouldn’t diminish no matter how many doses Hermione had. It clung to her persistently, allowing her no relief, no escape to the floating dream world. By lunchtime, Hermione had downed half a dozen doses of pain potion and was nearly in tears from the intensity of the pain that radiated through her mercilessly.</p><p> </p><p>When she stood up to go make herself a cup of tea and distract herself from the pain, a wave of nausea and dizziness hit. It was so severe that she had to clutch at the wall to keep herself from falling, the room swimming before her. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, willing the dizziness to subside, clinging desperately to consciousness. Falling asleep was one thing, but if Harry found her passed out on the floor, that was quite another matter.</p><p> </p><p><em>Shit…how many doses have I had? </em>Hermione wondered worriedly.</p><p> </p><p>Harry… she needed him, but he was at work. Hermione stumbled, limping to her room and snatching up her wand which had recently been found and returned to her by one of Harry’s Auror friends.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Expecto Patronum,</em>” Hermione muttered, trying desperately to think of a happy thought and not let the panic swallow her up. She was relieved when her silver otter appeared in mid-air. “Harry… Harry, <em>help,</em>” she managed, the otter gambolling away with her message.</p><p> </p><p>She sank onto the edge of the bed, cradling her head in her hands. <em>How could she have been so stupid? </em>She wasn’t even entirely sure whether it was panic or an excess of pain potion that was making her heart pound in her chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps, as she struggled against a feeling of faintness that threatened to overwhelm her.</p><p> </p><p>Harry appeared in the foyer with a <em>crack. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Hermione?” he called, sounding worried.</p><p> </p><p>“Here,” she called back faintly.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong? You scared the hell out of me!” Harry said anxiously.</p><p> </p><p>‘I can’t, Harry. The pain is just too much," Hermione said shakily.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get you the pain potion,” Harry volunteered immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Hermione protested.</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” Harry asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I — I’ve already had some," Hermione answered. “It’s not working. <em>Please, </em>Harry. I need a Healer. I — I can’t handle it," she said, tears streaming down her face. Whatever happened, she couldn’t tell Harry the real reason.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright. I’ll take you to St Mungo’s. Come on," Harry said, taking her gently by the arm and apparating to the wizarding hospital without another word.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It seemed to take forever to get through all the paperwork at Mediwitch Reception, and all the while Hermione’s pain was steadily worsening, the room spinning around her.</p><p> </p><p>“Hang in there,” Harry said reassuringly.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione nodded weakly from the floor where she was slumped, leaning against Harry’s legs, struggling to stay present.</p><p> </p><p>She barely reacted when a Healer came and checked her pulse, everything seeming to swim before her eyes, the room tilting sideways in a rush of muted colours and sounds which dissolved and faded slowly into the background of consciousness. No pain, no panic, no <em>anything,</em> just falling, falling…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Feel No Pain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Tap… click… tap-tap… tap… click… tap-tap… tap-tap… tap-tap… tap… click… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Will you <em> bloody </em>stop that?” Hermione said irritably. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” Ron muttered, returning the Deluminator to his pocket and staring guiltily at her before looking quickly away again and continuing to fidget anxiously. Harry had stepped out for a minute to take a fire-call, leaving Hermione alone with her ex-boyfriend. <em> Uncomfortable </em>didn’t begin to describe the atmosphere in the room. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione sighed, she was just waiting for a Healer to come back with the last of her test results and then she would be free to go. She had already made up her mind that she needed to move out of Harry’s flat. He had made it too easy for her these last months with his caring and coddling, catering to her every whim and providing her with all the affection, comfort and pain potions she could ask for. Warmth and safety were her drugs and Harry was her dealer. It was time to go; it was <em> past </em>time, Hermione thought with grim resolve as the door to her hospital room opened. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione instantly brightened, expecting Harry. Instead, a Healer in long, lime-green robes entered. </p><p> </p><p>“How are you feeling… Miss Granger?” he said a little awkwardly, the formality sounding odd to Hermione’s ears.</p><p> </p><p>“Neville, please. We’re all friends here. You can call me Hermione,” she said, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. </p><p> </p><p>“I can’t, actually. I find it best to maintain professional boundaries,” Neville said solemnly. “And on that note, Ron, would you mind stepping outside and giving us the room?” </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I should stay…” Ron said hesitantly, with a nervous glance at Hermione. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione shook her head at him. “I’ll be fine, Ron. See you in a minute,” Hermione said, trying hard for a bright, cheery tone that only made her sound even more nervous than she felt. </p><p> </p><p>Neville waited for the door to click shut behind Ron before consulting his clipboard. </p><p> </p><p>“Full name?” Neville said, positioning himself at the foot of her bed. Trying to maintain a professional distance, Hermione supposed. </p><p> </p><p>“Hermione Jean Granger,” she answered. </p><p> </p><p>“Date of birth?” Neville continued, making a little tick on his notes. </p><p> </p><p>“19th of September, 1979,” Hermione said dully, as Neville nodded, apparently satisfied. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, hospital procedure,” he muttered, as Hermione nodded her head in understanding. </p><p> </p><p>“So?” Hermione said nervously, wondering what could be so bad in her test results that Neville had felt the need to send Ron out of the room. </p><p> </p><p>“So,” Neville said, consulting his notes. “You were admitted to St Mungo’s with respiratory distress, both pupils noticeably dilated, a number of partially healed breaks, a temperature of thirty nine point eight - that’s quite high. Additionally, you fainted in the waiting area and the mediwitch who’s been attending you has noted that you’ve been suffering tremors as well.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione nodded mutely, unable to think of a single thing to say. </p><p> </p><p>“We were able to ease your respiratory distress with charmwork," Neville said, glancing at her. When Hermione didn’t say anything, he continued. “The Healers diagnosed you with a potion overdose and used an antidote to common poisons to draw the toxins out of your system. The partially healed breaks you presented with are now fully healed. You were prescribed Skelegro and Wiggenweld potions to heal the damage to your bones and nerves. It seems to have been a successful course of treatment.” </p><p> </p><p>“Great,” Hermione said flatly. </p><p> </p><p>“Harry says you’ve been in alot of pain recently,” Neville said carefully. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione bit her lip and said nothing. </p><p> </p><p>“Your bloodwork tells the same story. High concentrations of Valerian, murtlap, and rue. You overdosed on Pain Potions,” Neville said grimly.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione’s eyes filled, waiting for the accusations to fall from Neville’s lips.</p><p> </p><p>“I made a mistake. Took one too many,” she admitted quietly, swallowing the painful lump that seemed to be forming in her throat. </p><p> </p><p>“More than one,” Neville countered gently. “The concentration in your blood was nine times higher than it should have been, even if you <em> had </em>only had one too many.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermone narrowed her eyes at him, daring him to say it. </p><p> </p><p>“There are people who love you and want to help you, programs too,” Neville said, letting the sentence hang. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione shook her head violently, angry tears springing to her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“I - I’m not a - "</p><p> </p><p>“An addict?” Neville said quietly. “Yes, you are, Hermione. The sooner you admit that, the sooner we can get you help. Let us help you,” he implored her.</p><p> </p><p>“You - you’re being ridiculous,” Hermione said faintly, her mind a whirl of panic. “I don’t have a problem, Neville. You’re overreacting. Completely,” she said, wringing her hands and sliding off the bed to pace the floor agitatedly. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you know how many patients I have who have all told me the same thing?” Neville said sadly, watching her. “That’s what half the patients on this floor are, Hermione. Addicts. Not just potion and plant poisoning. Well, it is in a way; they poison themselves.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not me,” Hermione said adamantly. “You can’t put me in the same box as some-- some <em> junkie!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“The war was hard on everyone,” Neville told her. “Nobody is judging you, Hermione. Let us <em> help </em>,” he said, offering her his hand as though he were talking her down from a precipice. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione’s brown eyes met his and Neville could see her fear, her indecision. <em> Come on, </em> he silently begged. <em> Make the right choice, Hermione. Let me help.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Hermione reluctantly took his hand, placing her left palm in his and for a moment, Neville felt a wave of relief. It was incredibly short-lived, however, as Hermione clenched her other hand into a fist and swung it into his jaw, knocking him to the floor. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said regretfully, snatching up her wand from the bedside table and apparating away in a whirl of honey brown curls. </p><p> </p><p>“Hemione!” Neville called after her, but it was too late, she was long out of both reach and earshot. </p><p> </p><p>Neville scrambled to his feet as Harry and Ron burst through the door, wands drawn. </p><p> </p><p>“Where’s Hermione?” Harry demanded anxiously. </p><p> </p><p>“Gone,” Neville said, fighting to remain calm. He had thought he knew her, thought she would listen to him, but he had been wrong, he thought bitterly. </p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean <em> gone </em>?” Harry exclaimed, looking around the room as though she might suddenly reappear. </p><p> </p><p>“She took off,” Neville admitted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to alert security,” he said, moving to push past his old friends. </p><p> </p><p>Harry moved to step aside, but Ron stood his ground.</p><p> </p><p>“What did you do to upset her?” the redhead said fiercely, narrowing his blue eyes. “You sent me out of the room so you could talk to her - what the hell did you say to her?” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s between me and my patient,” Neville said apologetically. “I can’t disclose a patient's medical history or give out details. I’m sorry, guys.” </p><p> </p><p>Ron snatched the clipboard from Neville’s hands but had barely read more than a word or two before Neville cried “<em> Incendio!” </em>and torched the parchment. </p><p> </p><p>Ron yelped and dropped the clipboard. </p><p> </p><p>“What did you do that for?” Ron exclaimed, sucking his now shiny, burnt thumb. </p><p> </p><p>“I take my patient’s privacy and wellbeing very seriously, Ron,” Neville said firmly. “If you ever attempt to seize confidential information again, I’ll have you dragged up in front of the Wizengamot on charges,” he said threateningly. </p><p> </p><p>Harry stared. This protective ferocity was a part of Neville he had never seen before. </p><p> </p><p>“Come on, Ron,” Harry muttered. “We should go back to my place. Hermione might be there.” </p><p> </p><p>Ron nodded, but threw Neville an angry look as he and Harry made their way down to reception to floo back to Harry’s cottage. </p><p> </p><p>“I hope you find her,” Neville said quietly, though neither appeared to hear him. He had a soft spot for Hermione. They all did. Neville just hoped Hermione didn’t go down the same self-destructive path his late wife had. A path of despair that had ended with the bottom of a bottle of Draught of Living Death. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Secrets and Lies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry slid out of the fireplace in his living room and scrambled quickly to his feet, his heart hammering with fear. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. He didn’t put much stock in Professor Trelawney’s superstitious nonsense; in crystal balls, tarot cards, energies, sixth senses or the ‘vibe’ of a person. But he didn’t have to believe in any of that rubbish to have a deep feeling of dread. Hermione was headed for trouble and he was powerless to stop it. Ron wasn't a whole lot of help either. He'd decided to stay at St Mungo's to have his burnt thumb tended to.</p><p> </p><p>It was lucky Neville was an old friend, because he was well within his rights to have Hermione charged, Harry thought grimly. <em> Assault </em>. She’d assaulted Neville. Worse, the person she’d assaulted was a Healer - the Wizengamot would impose a more severe sentence for that fact alone. But the icing on the cake was that Neville was the head of House Longbottom, an ancient pureblood family. A Muggleborn assaulting a Pureblood… It didn’t get much more serious than that. If Neville pressed charges, Hermione would be facing time in Azkaban, war hero or not. </p><p> </p><p>Harry buried his face in his hands for a moment, trying not to let the panic overwhelm him. It was strange really, he  couldn’t count the number of dangerous individuals he had brought in during his time with the Auror Office and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and yet, on all those occasions, he had never once felt so terrified and helpless as he did now. He couldn’t protect Hermione, and it left a hollow, empty feeling in his gut. He had to find her. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Homenum reveliio!” </em>Harry said, waving his wand. But there was nothing, no indication of any other presence in the house. He was alone. Except for Casimir, of course. The spotted owl opened one eye to squint at him, then promptly tucked his head under his wing and went back to sleep. Harry sighed. He wondered if Hermione had come back to the house at all. Surely if she were taking off alone, she would want to pick up her stuff, Harry reasoned. </p><p> </p><p> He moved quickly down the hall to her room. He had stopped thinking of it as his spare room from the night he had picked her up from that Muggle hospital after the car accident. He nudged the door open gently, not sure what he was hoping to find. </p><p> </p><p>“Hermione?” he called automatically. Though he knew from the <em> homenum revelio </em>charm he had cast that she wasn’t here. There was, of course, no answer and he went in. </p><p> </p><p>The room was exactly the same as it had been a day or so ago. The same neat floral bedspread. The same desk piled with books. The same half drunk cup of tea. The same vanilla fragrance lingered in the air. But from the look of things, she hadn’t been back here. Harry sighed, frustrated. He had thought this would be the first place she would come. She was safe here, she had to know that. </p><p> </p><p>He ran his hands through his hair, thinking hard. If Hermione hadn’t come here, come to him for help or safety, or whatever the hell it was she was running to this time, who was the next logical person she would run to? A work friend, perhaps, Harry mused. Hermione had worked for the Wizengamot for over three years. Surely there was someone there she could trust when she was in trouble. </p><p> </p><p>Making up his mind, Harry strode back to the fireplace in the living room. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Incendio!” </em>he said firmly, conjuring bright orange flames. He threw a fistful of glittering Floo powder into the grate, and stepped into the now emerald flames, crying “Ministry of Magic,” before he was whisked away, entering the confusing labyrinth of fireplaces that passed in a blur before he finally stepped out of a fireplace in the Atrium of the Ministry. </p><p> </p><p>He dusted the soot from his robes impatiently, striding over to the Lift. The doors clanged open and he hurried forward, nearly colliding with two witches from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” he said, even though he wasn’t, as he stepped into the Lift and the doors closed behind him. He waited with increasing frustration for the Lift to reach Level Two - Wizengamot Administration Services, where Hermione worked. </p><p> </p><p>When the doors opened onto Level Two at last, Harry hurried out of the lift, walking briskly past the Auror Office and Improper Use of Magic Office to the small corner office that was used for Wizengamot Administration Services. He asked the first person he saw if she had seen Hermione Granger,  but she hadn’t. He asked a second, third and fourth person the same question, and was met with the same answer. Either they didn’t know her or hadn’t seen her in months. So much for that plan, Harry thought, annoyed. </p><p> </p><p>There was still the courtrooms, Harry thought desperately, knowing full well that he was clutching at straws now. But, what other choice did he have than to exhaust every avenue of inquiry that was available to him? She needed to be found before she did something reckless and got herself in worse trouble.He returned to the Lift, pacing anxiously in the small space, finally exiting the Lift on Level Nine and taking the stairs down to the courtrooms. He remembered Hermione mentioning once that she’d run into Theo Nott at work a handful of times, and even had lunch with him once. No doubt the two had bonded over their significant other’s shared infidelity, Harry thought grimly. Hermione had been less than complimentary about Draco and Daphne Nott’s relationship, and he doubted whether Theo had a much higher opinion of his wife. Theo had taken up his father’s seat on the Wizengamot, and Harry hoped that one Slytherin at least was trying to make something honourable of himself. </p><p> </p><p>The first few courtrooms he tried were empty, but the fourth was packed with Wizengamot members,at least twenty or thirty sitting on the raised benches around the room. When the door slammed shut behind him, silence fell in the room and Harry swallowed nervously. There was something about courtrooms that reminded him forcibly of his hearing just prior to the start of his fifth year at Hogwarts. </p><p> </p><p>Taking advantage of the ringing silence, Harry stepped forward, searching out Theo’s face on the raised benches. </p><p> </p><p>“Is Theo Nott here? Or has anyone seen Hermione Granger?” he asked loudly, his voice echoing around the Chamber. </p><p> </p><p>“Auror Potter, remove yourself from this courtroom immediately. You are interrupting formal proceedings,” the voice of the sitting justice rang out. Harry glanced up at Justice Goldstein , who didn’t look pleased. </p><p> </p><p>“Please, it’s really important. I need to speak to Nott,” he said imploringly. </p><p> </p><p>Justice Goldstein waved her hand impatiently and two security wizards stepped forward to forcibly remove him. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Leave, </em>or I will find you in contempt of this court and remand you into custody,” Justice Goldstein said firmly. </p><p> </p><p>Harry stood his ground. </p><p> </p><p>“Hermione Granger is missing,” he declared stubbornly, “I need to find her,” he called, even as the security wizards shunted him backwards towards the door and out into the corridor. </p><p> </p><p>Harry fumed, pacing the corridor restlessly in the company of the two security wizards, until the court was dismissed nearly four hours later. </p><p> </p><p>Theo Nott found him, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. </p><p> </p><p>“Justice Goldstein asked me to give this to you,” Theo said with a smirk, passing Harry a slip of paper. Harry glanced at it before pocketing it with a shrug. “She said to be grateful she isn’t sentencing you to Azkaban for six months instead,” Theo grinned. </p><p> </p><p>“There would be riots in the streets if they sent Famous Harry Potter to Azkaban,” Harry smirked. “It’s bad enough she’s fining me.” </p><p> </p><p>“Consider it getting off lightly, Potter,” Theo advised. “Now, what’s all this about Granger?” </p><p> </p><p>Harry sighed. “She disappeared from St Mungo’s today. I think she‘s in trouble. I have to find her. Do you know anyone who would know where she is or where she would go?” </p><p> </p><p>“Granger hasn’t been here in months. Not since she quit.” Theo shrugged. </p><p> </p><p>“Quit?” Harry repeated. He was certain Hermione had never mentioned anything to him about quitting her job at the Ministry. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Theo said. “Something about a Muggle vehicle accident and not being able to use the stairs with a broken leg. I thought it was odd she didn’t just get St Mungo’s to heal her up right away, but I don’t nose into things that aren't my business.” </p><p> </p><p>“So you don’t know where she is then?” Harry said tiredly, feeling like it had been a wild goose chase from start to finish. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, you can always ask Draco,” Theo suggested. “He knows where my wife is more often than I do,” he said bitterly. “He can probably help you find Granger.” </p><p> </p><p>“Hermione wouldn’t go back there, not after last time,” Harry said decidedly, before a worrying thought occurred to him. If Hermione hadn’t gone back to Draco’s, then where had she been in the months before that car accident? The amount of secrets he’d uncovered today alone was enough to make him very worried. </p><p> </p><p>“Fine, I’ll ask Draco,” Harry said reluctantly. </p><p> </p><p>“Give him my regards,” Theo said cynically. “Or a good kick to the crotch. I think I’d prefer that,” he said, narrowing his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Harry shook his head. “Why don’t you just end it if you know she’s cheating on you?” </p><p> </p><p>“Pride,” Theo offered weakly. “And I have a two-year-old. I don’t want to tell him his mummy is a dirty whore. More than that, I don’t want a custody battle over him with Daphne. I’ve seen how awful it gets,” he said grimly. </p><p> </p><p>“Fair enough,” Harry said quietly. </p><p> </p><p>“Let me know if you find Hermione,” Theo said. “I’d hate to think of anything happening to her. Well, anything worse than what Draco’s already done to her.” </p><p> </p><p>Harry nodded grimly, thanking Theo before making his way back upstairs to the Lift, riding it all the way back to the Atrium, before taking a floo to Malfoy Manor. It was past time for Draco to answer for his treatment of Hermione.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Truth Will Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry emerged from the fireplace in the elegant parlour of Malfoy Manor. There was a shriek of surprise from the settee and as Harry got to his feet, he noticed with great satisfaction that his sudden appearance had caused Daphne Nott to jump and tip her tea in her lap. </p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing in my house, Potter?” Draco said with a scowl from the other end of the settee. Harry hadn’t noticed him at first, Draco’s robes were a perfect match for the green and silver cushions, almost like they’d been purchased as a matching set. </p><p> </p><p>“Looking for Hermione,” Harry said, watching Draco’s jaw muscles clench at the sound of her name. </p><p> </p><p>“She’s not here,” Draco said stiffly. “And as you can see, I have company, so you can show yourself out.” </p><p> </p><p>But Harry was not so easily gotten rid of. The image of Hermione’s bruised and swollen face and her blackened eye swam to the fore of Harry’s mind, strengthening his resolve. Hermione had run to him from Draco’s abuse months ago. It was time he answered for it. </p><p> </p><p>Harry took a seat on a nearby ottoman, appearing quite at his leisure. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry if I startled your…” he paused, searching for the word. “Uhh <em> former-friend’s-wife </em>,” he said with a smirk, enjoying the look of barely concealed fury in Daphne’s eyes. Harry’s lips twitched and he had to fight to keep from grinning. If he had known it would be so much fun to get under her and Draco’s skin, he would have been here months ago. </p><p> </p><p>“Last I checked, my personal relationships weren’t within the jurisdiction of the Auror Office,” Draco said through gritted teeth. </p><p> </p><p>“Personal relationships? No,” Harry agreed. “But assault, grievous bodily harm, assault with a weapon,” he continued, eyeing Draco’s wand which was clenched tightly in his hand, “those <em> are </em>within our jurisdiction.” </p><p> </p><p>“Are you insinuating something, Potter?” Draco said furiously, a few sparks bursting from the end of his wand as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. </p><p> </p><p>“No,” Harry said calmly. “I’m stating it outright. You assaulted and physically abused your ex-girlfriend and it is within my capacity as a member of the Auror Office to have you arrested.” </p><p> </p><p>“I never touched that filthy Mudblood,” Draco hissed. “You don’t have a shred of proof, Potter. Now, get out of my house,” he said angrily, leaping to his feet and raising his wand threateningly. </p><p> </p><p>“Make me,” Harry said calmly. </p><p> </p><p>Draco narrowed his eyes. “<em> Sectumsem--” </em>Draco began, but Harry was faster, disarming him with a non-verbal expelliarmus before the incantation had even left Draco’s mouth. He caught Draco’s wand and looked at him with an expression of mild interest, as though Draco hadn’t just tried to use a dark curse on him. </p><p> </p><p>“You’ve got a lot of anger, Draco,” he said softly. “Do you know what I think?” he asked. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t give a damn what you think, Potter. Give me back my wand!” Draco said furiously.</p><p> </p><p>“I think,” Harry said slowly, “that you didn’t just beat on Hermione with your fists. I think you did it with your wand too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Give it back,” Draco hissed, balling his hands into fists. </p><p> </p><p>“Let’s see, shall we?” Harry said daringly. “<em> Priori incantatem!” </em> he exclaimed, touching the tip of his wand to Draco’s and watching as the wand began to regurgitate the spells it had previously cast in little ghostly images going back months - summoning charms, unlocking charms, confundus charms, a killing curse, repairing spells, fire conjuring charms, intruder and warding spells, and a sequence of cruciatus curses that had the victim writhing on the floor, her ghostly form contorted in agony - <em> Hermione, </em> Harry realised, ending the spell with a muttered “ <em> finite.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“So, Unforgivable Curses,” Harry said, his voice hollow and deadened. “You know the use of any one of the Three carries a life sentence in Azkaban. Who did you use the Killing Curse on, Draco? And how many times did you use the Cruciatus curse on Hermione? Five times? Ten? Twenty?” </p><p> </p><p>Draco paled, but looked, if possible, even more defiant. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m not saying anything else without a lawyer present,” he declared. </p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Harry said coldly. “Either way, you’re under arrest. Feel free to try to find a lawyer who can explain away Cruciatus Curses and a Killing Curse. <em> Incarcerous, </em>” he muttered, binding Draco’s arms and dragging him toward the Floo. </p><p> </p><p>“Wait,” Daphne exclaimed. “He didn’t kill anyone!” </p><p> </p><p>“Daphne, shut up,” Draco said tensely. </p><p> </p><p>“It was the cat. He killed the cat, okay? It attacked him after Hermione didn’t come back. The thing went mental! It was self defence,” she insisted. </p><p> </p><p>Harry’s heart plummeted like a stone. </p><p> </p><p>“You killed Crookshanks?” he said, his voice shaking with anger. </p><p> </p><p>“I protected myself from a deranged wild animal,” Draco said coldly. </p><p> </p><p>Harry resisted the temptation to beat Draco’s head against the brick wall of the fireplace, and instead tossed floo powder into the grate and called “Ministry of Magic,” allowing the whirl of flames to take them away. </p><p> </p><p>When they arrived in the Atrium, Harry silently escorted Draco down to the holding cells on level ten, barely able to look at him. He would have to consult with his Department Head about getting charges filed as soon as possible.  He wished he’d taken Nott at his word and kicked Draco. For the first time since she’d disappeared from St Mungo’s, Harry was relieved that Hermione was absent for now. He didn’t think he would ever have the heart to tell her what had befallen Crookshanks. Wherever she was, he just hoped she was safe. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Escape From the Pain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione Granger was by now half a world away with no intention of ever returning to Wizarding Britain. The pain at being separated from Harry was almost more than she  could bear. He had been her safety net since her first year at Hogwarts. He was her home away from home. But that home and that guaranteed safety was gone now. Once Neville told Harry everything St Mungo’s had discovered with their tests, Harry would never speak to her again, Hermione was sure of it. It was like third year all over again. Ron and Harry were over there being popular and successful and she was over here, alone. But it wasn’t a rat or a broomstick coming between them this time, it was herself, Hermione realised, swallowing the painful lump that seemed to have formed in her throat. The worst part was that she didn’t have Hagrid or Crookshanks to comfort her this time. For the first time in her life, Hermione felt well and truly alone. </p><p> </p><p>But if she was going to be alone, she had certainly picked a lovely place to do it, Hermione reflected, looking around at her surroundings. She had meant to come here to Australia to reconcile with her parents, but as often happened with international apparition, she’d gotten a little disoriented and misjudged the distance, landing in a town nearly forty miles south of where she’d meant to be. It was fortunate she hadn’t splinched herself, really. She had been in such a blind panic after fleeing the hospital, apparating to Harry’s to pack up the tent, and then apparating here. The entire trip was a blur of fear and adrenaline. But she was here now.</p><p> </p><p>‘Here’ was a little seaside Muggle town in southern Australia. The beach was an easy ten minute walk from the town centre. The main road of the town led out to grassy green hills dotted with gum trees, cattle, sheep and dozens of kangaroos. Hermione felt a little thrill at the sight of them; they were captivating in their family groups or ‘mobs’ as she’d heard them called. She hoped she  would have a chance to see a koala while she was here, the little grey bears had been one of her favourite animals before she’d discovered the strange variety of magical creatures in the wizarding world. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione was headed into town now as a matter of fact. She wanted to do some exploring before she found a spot to set up camp for the night. Between the beach and the countryside, it shouldn’t be too difficult to find a secluded spot. Maybe she could even fall asleep to the sound of the waves, she thought wishfully.</p><p> </p><p>The town didn’t have a great variety of shops, but that was fine by Hermione. It wasn't like she had a lot of Muggle money to spend anyway. After passing a supermarket, chemist, butcher and second hand store, a sign caught her eye: ‘Brown’s Books.’ It had been entirely too long since she had treated herself to a new book, Hermione decided, entering the shop without a second thought. </p><p> </p><p>A tinkling bell rang over the doorway as she entered, but Hermione paid it no heed, already deep into browsing the shelves for an interesting book, though she did note she was the only customer in the tiny shop.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I help you find anything?” a sweet voice asked. </p><p> </p><p>“Just looking,” Hermione started to say, then paused, frowning; the voice was strangely familiar to her ears, but it was impossible. It couldn’t be<em> , </em>could it?</p><p> </p><p>Hemione turned slowly, certain she was wrong, only to find herself staring into the strikingly blue eyes of Lavender Brown who looked equally stunned. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione eyed Lavender’s clear complexion and the wavy blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, as she grappled with shock. Things weren’t adding up. First of all, Lavender was supposed to be dead, mauled to death by Fenrir Greyback. The second and third things could wait. </p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing here?” they said in unison, each thinking along the same lines. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione shook her head, unable to process it. </p><p> </p><p>“I thought you were - that you... <em> How? </em>” Hermione asked, astounded. </p><p> </p><p>Lavender sighed, looking more world weary than Hermione had ever seen her. Where was the giggling, ridiculous, love-struck mooncalf that had been her dorm-mate for six years? </p><p> </p><p>“That night,” Lavender said haltingly. “There were so many, just <em> ripped apart </em> by Greyback <em> … </em> unrecognisable,” she said with a shudder. “You saw me get attacked, obviously. After they tried to save me with silver and dittany, I woke up hours later and ran away. I knew what I was, what he’d turned me into. It was weeks before I saw a newspaper and then I realised everyone thought I’d died, and I had. People, <em> creatures, </em> like me don’t get treated well back home, Hermione. Here it’s different. <em> I’m </em>different,” she said softly. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione nodded slowly. “What about your family? Do they know?” she asked. </p><p> </p><p>“No,” Lavender admitted. “It was better that they didn’t. Then at least they could remember me as human.” </p><p> </p><p>“It sounds...lonely,” Hermione said sadly, thinking of her own situation. </p><p> </p><p>“There’s a fine line between lonely and peaceful, Hermione,” Lavender told her. “And I’m not alone. I have Will and Cady and Pippa and Robyn,” she said with a sweet smile. </p><p> </p><p>“Who are they?” Hermione asked. </p><p> </p><p>“If you come home with me for lunch, I can show you,” Lavender offered. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione reluctantly accepted, not much in the mood for meeting more people, but in sore need of a friend. </p><p> </p><p>She needn't have worried. Will and Cady turned out to be a pair of white goats Lavender was keeping on her little ‘hobby farm’ as she called it. Will was the size of a horse, but Lavender quickly reassured her that he was a gentle giant. Pippa and Robyn turned out to be a pair of female kangaroos that Lavender had rescued as joeys and hand raised. Hermione was delighted with them. Pippa was easily twice the size of Robyn and an utter pig, gobbling almonds from Lavender’s hand with evident enthusiasm. </p><p> </p><p>“Want to try?” Lavender asked, offering Hermione the bag of almonds. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione gladly accepted and fed a few almonds each to Pippa and Robyn, her expression one of rapturous delight. </p><p> </p><p>“They like you,” Lavender said with a smile. </p><p> </p><p>“The feeling’s mutual,” Hermione said with a broad grin. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad,” Lavender replied. “You know, I don’t know what your plans are, Hermione, but I could use some extra help around here and with the bookshop. I mean, the pay’s not a lot, but would you be interested?”she asked, as Hermione looked up with an expression of surprise. “You could stay here too if you wanted,” she quickly added. “Pippa wouldn’t mind the company.” </p><p> </p><p>Hermione tried not to look too relieved at Lavender’s offer. “If you wouldn’t mind having me around,” she said carefully. “I’d love to.” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s settled then,” Lavender said happily. “Come inside and I'll make us some tea.” </p><p> </p><p>Hermione followed Lavender through the door of a small cottage adjacent to the fenced kangaroo paddock, smiling. Maybe Australia wouldn’t be so bad after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Walls of the Mind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The cold was unbearable. It was ice in her blood, freezing her from the inside, while she shivered from the cold pressing in on her, slowly drowning. Her limbs were shaking and she could hardly draw breath, the air freezing solid in her throat. The cold deepened with every passing second, it's icy grip tightening on her, until her very blood seemed to burn in her veins. She was going to die here. Draco was going to kill her, she knew it and it was her fault. All her fault. Her fault that it hurt so much. Her fault for disappointing him. Her fault that she was burning and freezing at the same time. Her fault that she couldn't stay quiet like he'd told her to. Her fault that her own screams of agonizing, unrelenting pain were the last things she would ever hear… </p><p> </p><p>"Hermione!" a voice was calling. Someone was shaking her, pulling at her arm. It hurt, it hurt so bad. </p><p> </p><p>"Stop, please stop, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Hermione sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut tight, trying to wall off the pain. </p><p> </p><p>"Hermione, wake up. It's okay! It's just a dream, just a dream," a voice called through the waves of pain. </p><p> </p><p>A dream? If it was a dream, she could wake up. She forced her eyes open, taking a deep breath as the spectral pain retreated to a distant corner of her mind. </p><p> </p><p>Noting Lavender's presence, Hermione wiped at her eyes and sat up, trying desperately to pull herself together. </p><p> </p><p>"Sorry," she muttered, scarcely able to meet Lavender's eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"For what?" Lavender asked gently. </p><p> </p><p> Hermione didn't answer, too lost in her own sense of embarrassment. She hadn't even allowed Harry to see how broken she felt underneath it all, and only a day with Lavender and she had already seen Hermione's intense vulnerability. It was dangerous. If she let Lavender get close, she would see. She would realise that Hermione was just a shell of the person she had once been. It wasn't okay, Hermione thought, determining to put some distance between them, her walls going back up instinctively. Walls kept people out. Walls kept her safe. </p><p> </p><p>"Never mind. It was nothing," Hermione said, forcing a smile as she threw the blankets off herself and climbed out of bed. </p><p> </p><p>Lavender halted her with a hand on her shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>"Hermione, are you okay?" she asked, her blue eyes wide with worry. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm fine," Hermione said stubbornly. "Don't worry about me." </p><p> </p><p>Lavender paused, seeming to struggle with herself for a moment. </p><p> </p><p>"Okay," she said finally. "If you want to talk about it…" </p><p> </p><p>"I don't," Hermione said through gritted teeth. </p><p> </p><p>"Well, you know where to find me," Lavender said quietly, making Hermione feel like a complete bitch. "I've got to get ready for work, but if you can feed the goats like I showed you and top up the water for the kangaroos, that would be helpful." </p><p> </p><p>Hermione nodded stiffly, unable to find anything to say as Lavender left the room. She heard the shower turn on a moment later and resisted the temptation to grab the nearest pillow and scream into it. It seemed no matter what she said or did, she had a knack for hurting the people around her. Pain was her disease and it was contagious. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Lavender returned mid-afternoon to find both kangaroos fed and watered, the spoiled marsupials stretched languidly on the floor of their enclosure, soaking up the sun's rays. Pippa was getting much too fat, Lavender thought with a rueful smile. She slipped past the lazy roos and headed for the house. </p><p> </p><p>It was evident Hermione had put herself to work while Lavender had been gone. Two large trays of freshly baked oatmeal biscuits were cooling on the counter. Lavender took one from the tray to taste and was pleasantly surprised by the perfect, soft centre of the biscuit. She hadn't thought Hermione was much of a cook, but her biscuits were proof to the contrary. </p><p> </p><p>At least she was keeping busy, Lavender reflected. She had always known Hermione was a private person, but she hadn't expected the former Gryffindor to put her walls up as quickly or as fiercely as she had done that morning. She decided she would check on her, if Hermione would let her. </p><p> </p><p>Lavender found her in the goat pen, much amused to see Will, the massive, white goat, curled up on the ground on a bed of freshly laid straw, Hermione seated beside him, leaning into his side, her nose in a book, idly scratching Will's head as she turned a page, the goat closing his eyes and leaning into Hermione's touch. </p><p> </p><p>She looked so peaceful and tranquil sitting there. Lavender was tempted to walk quietly away and leave Hermione to her reading, since it seemed to be one of the few things that relaxed her. But then Will noticed her and got up, trotting over to the gate to greet her, breaking Hermione's concentration. She looked up at Lavender and frowned, then quickly shuttered her expression, forcing a smile to her lips, though the smile didn't reach her eyes, which remained distant. </p><p> </p><p>"How was your day?" Hermione asked, getting up to come greet Lavender. </p><p> </p><p>"Pretty quiet," Lavender shrugged. "You've been busy," she observed. </p><p> </p><p>"I like to keep busy," Hermione informed her, avoiding her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>"Not too busy to come for a walk, I hope?" Lavender said. </p><p> </p><p>"Of course not," Hermione replied, letting herself out of the pen and sliding the chain back into place behind her. </p><p> </p><p>"Do you want to drop your book at the house first?" Lavender asked, eying the thick volume. </p><p> </p><p>"Oh, no, it's fine," Hermione said, tucking it under her arm. "So, where are we going?" </p><p> </p><p>"I'll show you," Lavender promised, leading her along a dirt path that led away from the goat pen and the house. </p><p> </p><p>Soon they came to a rough track bordered by large rocks. Thick scrubland surrounded the track on both sides. As they walked, Lavender explained that the track led in an almost straight line to a large pond that bordered her neighbour's property. Lavender herself owned about thirteen acres of Australian scrub, much of which was home to native wildlife, particularly wallabies, which Lavender explained looked a bit like a small kangaroo. </p><p> </p><p>They soon came to a broad metal archway off to the right side of the track. Lavender led Hermione through it, the latter detecting traces of magical warding that she immediately questioned. </p><p> </p><p>"Lycanthrope wards," Lavender explained. "There are lunar runes carved along all the boundaries as well, so the only time I can't leave this area is when the moon is at its full." </p><p> </p><p>"I thought Greyback wasn't fully transformed the night of the battle," Hermione said doubtfully. </p><p> </p><p>"He wasn't," Lavender agreed. "But even untransformed, he still carried the disease. His bite cursed me. It's in my blood. Don't worry," she added, seeing Hermione's expression. "I'm not a full wolf either. But I get very… feral. Animalistic, you understand, on the full moon. There are just these primal instincts that take me over and I can't fight them." </p><p> </p><p>"Instincts to do what?" Hermione said nervously. </p><p> </p><p>"To hunt," Lavender said. "To run. To feel the earth under my bare feet, the wind on my skin. I usually end up running naked through this bowl here," she added, indicating the rim of a dried out pond, surrounded by large rocks and trees. Old bones littered the ground and Hermione stooped to examine them. </p><p> </p><p>"Wallabies," she said, pointing to an almost complete skeleton, bleached by the hot Australian sun. </p><p> </p><p>"The next day I always feel terrible about hunting them down," Lavender said quietly. </p><p> </p><p>"Why don't you ward it to keep them out?" Hermione wondered aloud. </p><p> </p><p>"I don't have the magical skill to do that. These are very basic wards," Lavender admitted. "Strong though. And I'm afraid of what I'd do without...well, prey. If I can hunt, it satisfies those primal needs without endangering other people." </p><p> </p><p>Hermione nodded slowly in understanding.  </p><p> </p><p>"Don't you get lonely though? Up here all by yourself?" Hermione asked. </p><p> </p><p>"Sometimes. That's why I like having you here," Lavender said shyly. </p><p> </p><p>"I like being here too," Hermione admitted. "It's so peaceful, like there's nothing to worry about… and no-one to hurt you," she added in a low murmur, not having meant to say it out loud. </p><p> </p><p>"I would never hurt you, Hermione," Lavender promised. </p><p> </p><p>"I know," Hermione said, her eyes lingering on Lavender's face. "I've just been…" </p><p> </p><p>"Afraid?" Lavender guessed, as Hermione nodded. "Me too." </p><p> </p><p>"I don't want to be," Hermione admitted. </p><p> </p><p>"Then don't be," Lavender breathed, burying her hands in Hermione's unruly hair and pulling her close as their lips met in a soft kiss. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Fear In Her Eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Come on, Hermione! We’re going to be late!” Lavender called, her voice echoing through the  small cottage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be right there,” Hermione said, turning back to the mirror with a sigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She did not feel presentable enough to go out and meet Lavender’s friends tonight. Well, it was hardly going </span>
  <em>
    <span>out. </span>
  </em>
  <span>At least not by her usual definition of </span>
  <em>
    <span>going out. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Draco had been a frequent visitor to the Knockturn Alley club scene when they’d been together. That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>going out. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dressing up to go dancing. Hermione had gone half a dozen times at Draco’s insistence, before swearing she hated it and never going again. The music was too loud, the wizards too sleazy, and Draco never wanted to come home at a decent hour which meant she had to stay out until three a.m. in a club she didn’t like, with wizards who hit on her and tried to buy her drinks, her reward being to apparate a thoroughly drunk Draco home, pretending to be completely ignorant of the fact that he’d shagged another woman senseless in the alleyway, and then nurse him through a hangover the following day on next to no sleep. Never again, Hermione thought resolutely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that wasn’t what Lavender meant by </span>
  <em>
    <span>going out, </span>
  </em>
  <span>at least not from what she’d told Hermione. Tonight they were going out for dinner. Not as a date, Lavender had reassured her of that. It was just dinner with some friends at a neighbouring farm. They farmed geese, a fact that horrified Hermione. She had despised geese ever since one had bitten her as a child at a duck pond her parents had taken her to. She assumed the geese wouldn’t be invited to dinner, unless as a main course, and intended to politely decline if she was offered to tour the farm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She needn’t have worried. No tour was offered, their hosts were much too busy trying to get dinner on the table to bother with any such thing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I do anything to help?” Lavender offered sweetly, before she was whisked away to the kitchen, leaving Hermione alone at the table with the family dog for company. But she didn’t mind that at all. Dogs didn’t expect awkward small talk from guests, just belly rubs and ear scratches, which suited Hermione perfectly.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I get you a drink?” a voice asked, with a delightful Australian twang.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione looked up quickly, her pulse racing, but it was just their host. Mr… </span>
  <em>
    <span>something. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His name escaped her, as did a verbal response to his question, as he rattled off beverage choices. The only sound that registered in Hermione’s ears was the frightened pounding of her own heart. There was something about being alone with a man that unnerved her, ever since the day the man in the car had...No! She couldn’t, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>think about that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, sounds great,” Hermione said nervously. The farmer gave her an odd look, but went and poured her a drink, handing her a glass of red and leaving the bottle on the table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Better check on dinner, see how that roast chook is comin’,” he said with a smile, disappearing back into the kitchen with a grin and a nod. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione shook her head vaguely, dazed by their short exchange and the painful memories it had almost brought to the surface. She doubted whether she could ever be alone with a stranger again without thinking about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She swirled the glass of red wine in her hand thoughtfully. She wasn’t much of a wine drinker… Or she hadn’t been before she’d met the rowdiest Australians in town, and sweet </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin, </span>
  </em>
  <span>could they drink! They kept Hermione well plied with wine and food, a warmth she hadn’t felt in a good long while filling her until she was quite drunk. When it got late and it was deemed time to leave, she and Lavender thanked their hosts, clutching at each other and stumbling up the path to their cottage next door in fits of giggles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scarcely had the front door closed behind them when Lavender pinned Hermione against the wall. Hermione gasped, the wine dulling the part of her brain that told her this was a bad idea as Lavender claimed her lips. Lavender moaned into Hermione's mouth, and she gasped again as Lavender lifted her in her arms, showing her what she could do with her enhanced lycanthropic strength. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lavender's fingers unbuttoned Hermione's jeans, lowering the zipper agonisingly slowly, her eyes gleaming when Hermione shimmied out of the rough denim, dropping her jeans to the floor and wrapping her legs around Lavender's waist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lavender's fingers skimmed the hem of Hermione's shirt, brushing the warm expanse of Hermione's stomach underneath and pinching the rosy peak of Hermione's breast, making her moan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lavender's tongue entered Hermione's mouth, swirling over her lips and dancing over her tongue as a burning wave of need swept over Hermione. Lavender broke the kiss and pressed her lips to Hermione's throat, mouthing at the tender flesh, planting hot kisses over her throat and tugging her shirt down to press kisses down her shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione angled her hips forward, craving friction. Lavender's hand brushed past Hermione's navel, drifting lower, lower, moaning when she brushed against the damp lace of Hermione's knickers. Lavender moved the damp knickers aside and slid two delicate fingers between Hermione's folds, sliding them into her and curling them as Hermione panted and ground against her, craving more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione threw back her head, her hair cascading freely down her back, as she ground against Lavender's hand, pleading for friction and release. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as she was about to tip over the edge, an image flashed through her mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One moment of confused disorientation was all it took for the man to be on her, climbing across the centre console and straddling her legs, kneeling over her as his weight pinned her to the seat.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione gave a squeak of mingled surprise and terror as the man’s lips covered hers in a sloppy, wet kiss, his tongue sliding effortlessly into her open, protesting mouth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t -” Hermione tried to protest, as the man rubbed her breasts, squeezing them a few times before his hand drifted downwards, shoving the front of her black leggings down and sliding his fingers between her legs as Hermione struggled weakly beneath him, her hand scrabbling uselessly for the door handle, but it was locked and he was too strong for her, his weight feeling like it was crushing her much smaller body.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Terror rose in Hermione’s throat as the man reached between them and she felt the head of something blunt and unfamiliar bumping against her opening.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“N-n-ooooo!” Hermione begged. “Please,” she whispered, tears starting to fall from her eyes, knowing what was coming.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t worry. It’ll be ..ugh… over soon," the man grunted, deaf to her pleas as he thrust into her hard, the painfully dry friction of his cock tearing into her, stretching her inner walls forcefully. Hermione gave up struggling after the first few hard, dry thrusts and lay still and sobbed as he sawed in and out of her, each thrust harder than the last, until he finally spilled himself inside her with a grunt, collapsing against her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A minute or two later, he clambered awkwardly off her, tucking himself back into his trousers. Hermione pulled her leggings back up and leaned down, snatching up her bag and her wand. She cast a wordless charm through her sobs, unlocking the door and slinging her backpack over her shoulder, as she took off running...</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The memory faded, but Hermione's mind continued to scream at her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Run! Run now, before it's too late!" </span>
  </em>
  <span>a fearful voice in the back of her mind cried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lavender looked at Hermione in confusion, still panting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's wrong?" she asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione shook her head, unable to even answer as she scrambled into her jeans and snatched up her wand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wait, what are you - Hermione? Hermione!" Lavender called after her, but Hermione had already disapparated. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. A Small, Frightened Deer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Slight time jump with this angsty little chapter, just bear with me 😉</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry burst through the entrance of St Mungo's Hospital and made his way upstairs, coming face to face with Neville as he rounded a corner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"She's here?" Harry said breathlessly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"She's here," Neville confirmed quietly. "Harry - " he said, throwing out an arm to stop him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What?" Harry said impatiently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neville bit his lip, anxiety flashing across his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Be gentle," he advised. "She's been through a lot." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What do you mean?" Harry asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I mean, when she came in here, she was very weak. She'd lost a lot of blood. Her magical energy is severely depleted. If she hadn't come to me when she did, she might have died," Neville said grimly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What happened to her?" Harry demanded urgently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"She claims she was drinking and splinched herself when she tried to apparate," Neville said carefully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"She </span>
  <em>
    <span>claims?" </span>
  </em>
  <span>Harry repeated. "You don't think she's telling the truth?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think," Neville said slowly. "That she's in trouble and she came to us for help." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Neville, tell me what you're really thinking - what you </span>
  <em>
    <span>suspect </span>
  </em>
  <span>happened. I'm practically family to her. You can trust me," Harry promised. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Look, if she thinks one of us doubts her, she'll run again and she won't come back this time," Neville cautioned him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tell me anyway. I swear I won't breathe a word to her or anyone else," Harry said solemnly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fine," Neville agreed reluctantly. "In my professional opinion, the wound she presented with is far too precisely done to be caused by splinching. Splinching is random. It's messy and it's ugly. Hers - it looks deliberate," he said, shaking his head. "Either someone attacked her or - " </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You think she did it to herself?" Harry said, horrified. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's a possibility. Maybe it was the only way she could convince herself to get help," Neville shrugged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hermione. She would never - "</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's been three months, Harry," Neville said softly. "She's changed. She's different from the Hermione you think you know. She's jumpy and scared and I don't think it would take much to scare her into disappearing again. So, do us all a favour and when you go in there, you just tell her you're happy she's home. Don't ask her questions, do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>breathe a word of what I've told you. Keep her safe, even from herself. Don't try to make her talk, just let her open up when she's ready." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can do that," Harry promised. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I put an anti disapparition jinx on the room so she can't take off as easily," Neville admitted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That won't hold Hermione for long," Harry said, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No," Neville agreed. "But like I said, her magic is weakened. And I think - I think she wants to be here. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants </span>
  </em>
  <span>help. But you know Hermione, she'll never ask for it. So just - give her a reason to stay," he said pleadingly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll give her a hundred reasons," Harry declared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Just - </span>
  <em>
    <span>gently," </span>
  </em>
  <span>Neville said again. "If she agrees, she can go home with you. Just sign her out at the desk and send me a Patronus if you need me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded and proceeded down the hall to Hermione's room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knocked softly on the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Come in," a voice called weakly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry opened the door slowly and entered the room, halting in shock when he saw Hermione. He quickly shuttered his expression and forced a small, reassuring smile to his lips. He realised now that Neville had made quite the understatement when he'd said that Hermione had changed. She was almost unrecognisable to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her long, glossy mane of chestnut curls had been cut short; there were dark rings that almost looked like bruises under her eyes. Harry's eyes flickered to the snow white bandage at her throat, doubt nagging at him. She was thin and pale - </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>pale; her face was drawn, and the prominence of her cheek bones made her sad brown eyes look unnaturally big, </span>
  <em>
    <span>like a deer</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Harry realised, </span>
  <em>
    <span>a frightened, half-starved deer. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey," he said gently, approaching slowly. She gave him a slight nod of encouragement and he perched on the edge of the bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was lost for words as he looked at her, and in the end, all he could think to do was hold her hand and squeeze it gently, comfortingly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Missed you," he said huskily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Missed you too," Hermione said softly, leaning against him with a little sigh. Harry squeezed his eyes shut tight against the sudden burn of tears. He could feel every single one of her ribs through the thin hospital gown she wore. She was so broken and fragile now, his brave Hermione. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Can I tell you something?" he asked quietly, not daring to hug her any more tightly, for fear he would crush her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course, Harry," Hermione replied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I arrested Draco while you were gone," he said, a true smile forming on his lips for the first time since he'd stepped into St Mungo's. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"For what?" Hermione said absently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I examined his wand myself. I know what he did to you, Hermione," Harry said grimly. "The use of any one of the Unforgivables is a lifetime sentence in Azkaban. I just wish I'd known sooner. I could've - " </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But you didn't know," Hermione cut across him quickly. "It's my fault. I should've told you. I was so stupid," she told herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, it's not your fault. Don't ever say that," Harry said fiercely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's the truth, Harry. If I'd spoken up a long time ago, things would be very different now," Hermione declared. "When you arrested him, did you - did you find Crookshanks by any chance? He was the one thing I really regretted leaving and I missed him while I was away. I even had a dream about him once." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry hesitated, remembering the moment he'd discovered the fate of Crookshanks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not saying anything else without a lawyer present,” Draco declared. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fine,” Harry said coldly. “Either way, you’re under arrest. Feel free to try to find a lawyer who can explain away Cruciatus curses and a killing curse. Incarcerous,” he muttered, binding Draco’s arms and dragging him toward the Floo. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait,” Daphne exclaimed. “He didn’t kill anyone!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Daphne, shut up,” Draco said tensely. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It was the cat. He killed the cat, okay? It attacked him after Hermione didn’t come back. The thing went mental! It was self defence,” she insisted. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Harry’s heart plummeted like a stone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You killed Crookshanks?” he said, his voice shaking with anger. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I protected myself from a deranged wild animal,” Draco said coldly… </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Harry?" Hermione asked uncertainly, bringing him back to the present with an unpleasant bump. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, er - no. He wasn't there. Draco said he ran away," Harry invented feebly. "Maybe he'll find his way back to you," he said, cursing the lie that fell from his lips. Hermione was going to hate him if she discovered the truth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She needs hope right now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he told himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Maybe," Hermione said doubtfully, biting her lip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So," Harry said quickly, hoping to distract her and avoid any more questions about Crookshanks. "Is there any way I can convince you to come home with me? It's been - </span>
  <em>
    <span>lonely - </span>
  </em>
  <span>since you left." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Harry, I don't want to be in your way - " Hermione said hesitantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You won't be. You'd be doing me a favour," Harry promised. "I can't cook to save my life," he said, forcing a laugh and swallowing down the very real fear that she would refuse him. If she disappeared again, she wouldn't survive this time, he was sure of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Alright," Hermione said reluctantly. "If you're sure…" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm very sure. I'm the surest wizard in Britain," Harry promised, with a shaky chuckle. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm not losing you again, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he vowed silently as he helped a frail Hermione into a set of borrowed robes and took her home where she would be safe and loved and cared for. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>